Of Brothers and Monsters
by Silver-'-Doe290s
Summary: Ludwig Beilschmidt decided he was tired of hunting, so he quit and went to college to make friends and have a shot at a normal life. Said normal life is turned upside-down when his brother Gilbert turns up at his flat injured and in pursuit of a demon. Or, how Supernatural would have gone if the characters were all from Hetalia. (AU based on the TV show 'Supernatural'.)
1. Chapter 1

"Feli -"

" _Yes?_ " The car swerved left and Ludwig had to cling to his seat to avoid being knocked into Kiku, who was currently staring dead ahead, would probably be turning slightly green if his skin tone allowed it, and had not said a word since vomiting into a bag five minutes earlier.

"Feli -" Ludwig began to say again, but the rest of his sentence was cut off by the sudden screech of breaks and Ludwig swore that if his friend miraculously managed to avoid crashing the car, he would die of a heart attack anyway.

"Ludwig? Is something wrong?"

"Feliciano, can you please -" Wild swerve "- drive a bit - " The friends narrowly avoided collision with the car behind them "- more _safely?_ "

"What's wrong with my driving?" Feliciano asked in that adorable, slightly bewildered voice of his. Ludwig sighed. In any other circumstances, Feliciano was - quite literally - afraid of his own shadow, but put him behind a steering wheel and apparently he became a homicidal maniac with a death wish. Ludwig had never seen this side of his friend before and prayed he would never have to see it again.

"Just pull over."

"What?!" Feliciano yelled frantically, clinging to the steering wheel like a drowning man to a life raft. "I'm sorry, I can't -"

"I said PULL OVER!"

"Ah! All right, all right! Please don't yell at me, it's so scary when you do that..."

And there was Feliciano Vargas in a nutshell. Almost creating about twenty road accidents over the course of one drive, no problem, but raise your voice a little and he would cower as if you were threatening him at gunpoint.

Ludwig let out a sigh of relief as Feliciano managed to find a spot on the side of the road and park there without incident. "Good. Now, give me the keys."

Feliciano gaped at Ludwig for a few moments as if he had spoken in an indecipherable foreign language, mouth opening and closing. "B-but - you can't drive! You and Kiku both got drunk at that party, remember? That's why you asked me to drive you home in the first place!"

"Yes, well, that was before I realised that drunk or not, I'm still a safer driver than you, so hand over the keys."

"I would also prefer for Ludwig to drive," Kiku muttered weakly from the back seat. Ever polite as Kiku was, this was probably the closest he would ever come to calling Feliciano a horrible driver.

"I still don't think this is a very good idea," Feliciano said uncertainly, keys half held out in front of him. Ludwig looked at them for a few moments.

"...Maybe not. But I refuse to get back into the car with you at the wheel."

"This is a very pretty place," Kiku noted quietly, glancing around. At the young Italian's insistence, the three friends had ended up taking the 'scenic route', which just about doubled the length of the trip with several detours through the edge of the countryside. "Maybe we could stop here until Ludwig is sober enough to drive?"

"That seems like a good idea," Ludwig agreed. Kiku was right; it _was_ a nice place, much quieter than the crowded hall they had just left behind. All the noise and drink had been starting to give him a headache anyway. Ludwig wasn't a fan of large crowds and wild parties; that was more his brother's scene. If he were to celebrate, he would rather share a couple of beers with his friends in the privacy of his flat with a few friends (or, more likely before he left for college, with his brother, the only friend he'd really had back then). He'd only come because Feliciano had begged him to, and no-one could resist Feli's patented puppy-dog eyes. Kiku was even less of the partying type than Ludwig, but somehow he'd seemed to have been enjoying himself. The two of them, later to be joined by Feliciano, had found themselves a corner and some drinks and shared each other's company in the friendly silence so common between Ludwig and Kiku. Ludwig hadn't intended to drink much, but Gilbert's voice at the back of his head kept egging him on, so he decided to have another glass, and then another and another until the evening became a haze of alcohol and bad music. Kiku had been much more sensible and drunk less than half as much as Ludwig, but it turned out he couldn't hold his drink at all and so by the end of the night he was at least at drunk as Ludwig.

Ludwig leaned back in the car, smiling. If his brother were here he would tease him for not being 'awesome' enough to drive all the way home, but he didn't want to. If they went home Kiku would probably have to stay the night, but after that he'd be gone again and it would be just him and Feliciano and Feliciano would want to spend the winter break with his twin and the rest of his holiday, and Ludwig would be alone in his flat with nothing to do but study and worry about Gilbert. Gilbert, who hadn't called in weeks and might well be dead in some back alley right now. He had quit hunting and signed up for law school because he didn't want to have to deal with that kind of danger on a daily basis, but staying up every night for hours in his safe, comfortable bed wondering whether Gilbert had finally run into a monster that would prove more than he could handle was hardly much better. Some days, he yearned to pick up the phone and tell Gilbert that he was quitting college because the guilt of leaving his brother to risk his life hunting monsters alone was too much for him, but whenever that would happen Feliciano would come upstairs with a bowl of pasta or a cup of coffee for him and ask him all about his day and share every irrelevant detail of his life with him, and Ludwig would turn away from the phone and curse his own selfishness.

He didn't feel selfish right then, though. Much as he missed and worried about Gilbert, at that moment he was sure nothing could be better than sitting in Feliciano's car gazing out at the fields and stars.

"What are you thinking about, Ludwig?" Feliciano's voice interrupted his musings.

"Just how glad I am that I came here and met the two of you."

"Oh! I'm really glad you did, too. I would have been really lonely here without you and Kiku."

"Really?" That was news to Ludwig. He had always had difficulty opening up and making friends, but the ever-cheerful and bubbly Feliciano seemed to instantly win the heart of anyone he talked to. "You seem to get along with everyone."

"Getting along with is not the same as being friends with." A brief flicker of sadness seemed to pass across Feliciano's face, though it was so out of place that Ludwig wasn't sure if it was real or if he was just projecting his own emotions. "Anyway, I have great news. You'll never guess what happened to me yesterday!"

"What happened?"

Feliciano laughed. "Come on, guess!"

"You met a pretty girl and she was nice to you?" That was usually the kind of 'good news' Feliciano came up with.

"No, though that would have been nice as well. This is better though!"

"All right, just tell me."

Feli grinned. "Do you remember those paintings I sent to a publishing company a month ago? Well, I got an answer. They really liked them! They're thinking of contracting me to do more cover art for them. It's going to be so much fun!"

Ludwig cracked a smile. "That's great, Feli."

"How about you and Kiku? Any plans for the future?"

"That depends on my exam results," Kiku said from the back. "My parents said if they're not satisfied, I'm going to have to go back home."

"Home, like in -"

"Home as in Japan, yes."

"That isn't likely, though, is it?" Ludwig asked. "You're more studious than I am, you've never gotten a poor result for as long as I've known you."

Kiku shrugged. "My family is hard to satisfy. But it's nothing to worry about; I'm going to do my best not to let that happen. I like it here. And you, Ludwig?"

Ludwig looked down awkwardly. "I'm not really sure. I haven't -" He hadn't planned past going to college and breaking away from the Hunter's life, but he wasn't sure how to explain that to his friends. Luckily, he didn't have to, because at that moment his phone rang. "Sorry, I have to get that." He fished the phone out his pocket and held it up to his ear. "Hello, this is Ludwig Beilschmidt from law school, Standford University."

"Hello, Ludwig," a voice replied in a familiar posh, lilting Austrian accent.

"Roderich? Why are you calling me?"

"I just wanted to see how you've been doing." There was a short pause. "And, yes, Erzébet has been pestering me to get in touch. Incidentally, it must be past midnight in America right now. What are you doing up at this hour?"

"I'm on my way home from an end-of-term party. I've been doing fine. How's the music?"

Ludwig could hear the smile in his cousin's voice as he replied. "Wonderful, actually. I have a concert later this month I've been preparing for; I think it could be a breakthrough for my career. I'm feeling very confident about it."

"That's good to hear." Ludwig wished there was something he took as much pride in doing as his cousin did in playing piano. He had never been as dedicated to hunting monsters as his brother, and it wasn't the kind of thing one could boast of over the phone.

"Thank you. Ludwig - how's Gilbert?"

"I can't tell you that."

There was a deep sigh on the other side of the phone. "Tell me if he's alive, at least."

"As of a few weeks ago, yes."

"'As of a few weeks ago'? What does that even - you know what, never mind, I know you won't tell me. Erzébet and I are worried, you know. Until you showed up as a Stanford student, we didn't even know if the two of you were alive. I don't understand this secrecy of yours. I know what Gil's like, and the idiot is more than capable of getting himself neck deep in trouble. I wish you'd tell me that isn't the case."

"I'm sorry, I can't." Ludwig wished he could just hang up. He hated having to evade Roderich's questions, but Gilbert had made it clear that their cousin was not to know what they were up to.

"At least tell me he isn't involved in anything illegal."

Ludwig let out a breathy laugh at that. "Not strictly speaking, no, I wouldn't say so." _The police have plenty of reason to be after us both, but that's because we can hardly explain half the things we do to anyone remotely normal._

"... I see." Roderich didn't sound entirely convinced, but he did drop the subject, which Ludwig was grateful for. "Take care, Ludwig."

"I will," Ludwig promised, and the call ended. He looked at his phone for a few seconds, then at his friends who were deep in conversation. As things went, he was probably lucky. Yes, he was very, very lucky to be here, and he wouldn't throw that away for anything in the world, not even for his brother's sake.

* * *

Morning rolled in, and Ludwig decided it was probably safe for him to be behind the wheel. He made a point of driving slowly and carefully, in counterpoint to Feliciano's wild style from the night before. He despaired for the state of road safety these days if Feliciano had somehow managed to obtain a driver's licence and, more pressingly, worried that whatever freakish luck had kept him alive in spite of his suicidal driving skills would one day run out.

He passed by Kiku's apartment to drop him off and then headed for the flat he shared with Feliciano. He had been nervous about having a flatmate, initially. He'd often been told he wasn't an easy person to get along with, but while he'd never admit it, he'd been relieved to find out he wouldn't have to live alone. He'd gotten used to having his brother around; being on his own for too long would have felt... uncomfortable. He'd been even more relieved to find out that his room-mate was friendly and willing to get along with anyone, if a bit hapless and always in need of his help. The arrangement they had suited him perfectly.

He was about to unlock the door when Feliciano froze, turning very pale. Ludwig wasn't especially phased; lots of things terrified Feliciano. Still, he hesitated. "Are you okay?"

"L-Ludwig?" Feli's voice came out a pitch above how it usually sounded. "Is that - is that _blood_ on the doorknob?"

Ludwig frowned and looked again at the doorknob. It was, indeed, coated in a sticky red liquid. Some of it was also smeared to on the door, barely there, as if someone had hastily scrubbed it away. His heart sank. He'd left his gun with silver bullets in his room. He was usually careful enough not to go anywhere without it, but he must have forgotten it last night. After all, what kind of person needed to bring a gun to a _college party?_

"Feliciano, get behind me." _Please, let this just be some kind of sick prank a freshman thought it would be funny to pull on us._

"Y-You're not actually going to go _in,_ are you?"

"If you notice anything strange, anything at all - a sound, a smell, lights flickering, _anything -_ get out of there as fast as you can." He had no worries about Feliciano managing that. Feliciano was a very fast runner, at least when he was trying to get away from something. He handed Feliciano his phone. "Then call my brother, Gilbert. Tell him I'm in trouble."

"O-Okay... Ludwig?" Feliciano stooped down to examine something on the ground. "...I think someone spilled _salt_ on the floor."

Ludwig nodded. So, whoever had left the marks on the door had also warded his flat. They had probably been attacked before coming in, then. That should have been a relief - after all, it lessened the likelihood of their being a monster in his apartment - but truth be told it just worried him more. He only knew one hunter who would think to break into his apartment when they were in trouble. "Just follow me and do what I said." He tried the doorknob again and the door swung open. So, his lock must have been picked.

There was more blood on the carpet. This time, it hadn't even been wiped aside, just left to pool. He heard Feliciano gag behind him. Feliciano was not good with blood. Even cartoon violence was often too much for him. "You can wait outside," Ludwig said gently. Feliciano shook his head.

"I don't think we should be going in... but if you're going to, I'm coming with you."

"Okay." Ludwig stepped forwards. "Is anybody here?" No answer. He repeated his question, louder this time. For a second there was no reply, but then he heard a soft cough coming from his room. He and Feliciano exchanged a worried look.

"Should I call 911?"

"Not yet."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I'm heading in." The blood trail did, indeed, seem to lead to his room. "You can stay here."

"No!" The word came out as almost a squeak, but there was a conviction in it that was rare coming from Feliciano. "I mean, you shouldn't go in alone, what if it's dangerous?"

Ludwig just shook his head. He was beginning to doubt they were in any danger. This didn't have the markings of a monster, just a hurt and desperate hunter breaking into the only place where he thought he might be safe. He paused at the door. He wasn't sure he wanted to go into that room. He'd thought he hated the thought of Gilbert being off God knows where getting into God knows what kind of trouble, but at least that way Ludwig could _pretend_ to believe that he was safe. His hands shook as he pushed the door open.

He wasn't surprised by what he saw, but that didn't make it much easier. Gilbert was curled up on the bed, eyes tightly shut. He was a mess. White hair stained red, skin and clothes both torn. It was the same scene he saw every night in his dreams, except real.

"Gilbert?"

Gilbert's eyes blinked open.

"Gilbert, what the _hell_ happened to you?"

Gilbert's mouth twitched upwards into his characteristic lazy, devil-may-care smile. "Hey, West. What took you?"

* * *

 **So... Yes, I know I have other fanfiction to work on. I _am_ working on them, but I was binge-watching all of Supernatural season ten lately, and this popped into my head and wouldn't let go. I'm not sure how far I'll take it yet, but I have a good few ideas so... we'll see.**

 **This is going to use the plot of Supernatural (well, not entirely, but I'll be taking a lot of key points from there) and the characters of Hetalia, but you don't really need to be familiar with either fandom to understand it, though you might be a bit confused at first if you haven't watched Supernatural. Don't worry, you'll figure it out :).**

 **If you aren't familiar with Hetalia, there's not much you need to know except that I've taken characters from there and put them into the context of Supernatural. In Hetalia these characters represent countries, but for the purpose of this fic they're just (mostly) normal humans. In case you're wondering, though, in the Hetalia fandom Ludwig = Germany, Feliciano= North Italy, Kiku = Japan, Gilbert = Prussia, Roderich = Austria, Erzébet (usually called Elizabeth, but I prefer Erzébet because it's an authentic Hungarian name) = Hungary, Francis = France (I know, shocker, right?) and Antoine = Spain, not that it's really relevant. You could probably figure all that out though by the nationalities I've given them, except maybe for Gilbert.**

 **Please leave a review!**


	2. Chapter 2

"What happened?" Ludwig repeated. It wasn't hard to imagine the answer. Gilbert ran into a monster, tried to take it on, and Ludwig hadn't been there to have his back.

"I was attacked. I tried to call you, but it just went to voicemail."

Ludwig winced. "I was with my friends last night; I switched my phone off after I got a call from Roderich so I wouldn't be bothered by anyone else." And by God did he feel guilty for that now.

Gilbert's gaze flickered over to Feliciano. "Your boyfriend?"

Ludwig groaned. The last thing he wanted to deal with right now was introductions. "Flatmate. Feliciano Vargas. Feliciano, this is my brother, who is about to tell me _exactly_ what happened to him and stop evading my questions."

"Woah, West, calm down. I'm not evading anything. Can your friend wait outside for a moment?"

Feliciano, for his part, looked like he was about to faint - Ludwig couldn't blame him for that - but he nodded quickly. "I'll - um - should I cook something?"

Trust Feliciano to respond to any situation by offering to cook. Ludwig just looked down at Gilbert, who beamed. "That'd be _awesome,_ thanks." The door clicked shut behind Feliciano. "Your boyfriend seems like a great guy."

Ludwig frowned. "Firstly, we've been through this; he isn't my boyfriend. Secondly, you're avoiding the question. Again. What happened?"

"Seriously, relax. It's not as bad as it looks. It's going to take more than a black-eyed freak to take down the awesome me."

"A black-eyed freak? So you've been going after a _demon?_ "

"I've been going after _it_."

"... _it_...?"

Gilbert waved a hand. "You know. _The_ it. The one that started all this."

"You've been going after the yellow-eyed demon on your own," Ludwig stated flatly. He knew Gilbert was reckless and overconfident, but he wouldn't have expected this even of him. It was stupid. It was suicidal. It was...

"Who said I was alone?"

"Who was with you?"

"I ran into these two other hunters. Francis and Antonio. They were experienced, they had resources. I told them I was tracking a very powerful demon, and they said they might be able to help me."

"...So they go you into this."

"Don't be stupid. No-one gets me into anything. I got myself into this. They just gave me information I needed and offered to help. I took off on my own, tracked the demon into the next town over, but I ran into a couple of its lackeys and had to make a break for it. It was a pretty awesome fight, if I do say so myself. I kicked their ass for a while, but then _they_ started kicking _my_ ass and I knew I had to get out of there, so I came and crashed at your place. Sorry for the mess, by the way."

"We need to get you to a hospital."

Gilbert snorted. "And tell them _what,_ exactly?"

"We can say you were mugged."

"I don't have time for hospital. I've taken worse, and I'm _this_ close to tracking down that demon. If I let him go now, who knows when he'll show up again?"

"You mean you're this close to getting yourself killed."

"It's seriously not that bad, West! Don't tell me you're not excited. We've been after this thing for practically our whole lives. We could end it _now._ Just think about it."

Ludwig was thinking about it, and he wasn't excited. All he saw was his brother hurt and bleeding on his bed and the prospect of a safe, peaceful life slipping through his fingers. "Don't do anything stupid, Gilbert."

"Yeah, yeah. Enough with the lectures, Mom. Look, I know you wanted to walk away from this life, and I'm okay with that. It's probably the smart choice. I'm not asking you to come with me. I just needed a place to recover, and then I'll be out of your hair. Promise."

Ludwig took a long look at Gilbert. "I'll help you."

"No! I'm not asking you for that, I told you, I just need to stay here a few days."

"I _want_ to help - but I have two conditions. One, we stay here until I think we're ready to go. During that time, you are going to go to a hospital. I don't care what lies you have to tell them to get them to treat you, just do it."

"And if I don't want to wait?"

Ludwig crossed his arms. "Then I'm kicking you out. If you won't let me look after you, don't come to me for help."

"Fine, fine. Have it your way. And the second condition?"

"You promise not to go after this thing on your own again. _Ever._ I don't care what kind of a lead you get or what other hunters you team up with. You either take me, or you don't go at all."

"I thought you were quitting?"

"I was. But not if that means you go around recklessly endangering yourself."

"C'mon, West, don't try to guilt trip me out of doing this."

"I'm not trying to guilt trip you into anything. I just said I'm coming with you."

"If you get hurt, West -"

"You mean like you did?"

"You're impossible. Yes, fine. I accept your conditions. I swear, I'm the older one, it should really be me laying down the rules around here."

"Do you want my help, or not?"

Gilbert sighed. "Yeah, I want you with me, West."

"Good. One more thing. I told you Roderich called earlier. He was worried. He wants to know how you are. I'm calling him back."

"No! West, there's a _reason_ I took off like I did. A reason why, all these years, I never contacted them. I won't bring them into this, and if they know, they _will_ get mixed up in it. Erzébet is just that stubborn. And really, there is no _way_ that will end well. I mean, can you imagine Roderich as a hunter? He'd shoot himself in the foot before he ran into his first monster."

Ludwig had to crack a smile at the thought of his cousin wielding a gun against ghosts and demons. _Feliciano_ would make a better hunter than Roderich. Well, okay, maybe that was taking things a bit too far, but at least Feliciano would be more adept at running away. "Fair point, but at least let them know you're alive."

Gilbert considered it for a moment. "Yeah, I'll do that. I guess it's been too long since I've graced them with my awesome presence. Except, uh, my phone didn't fare quite as well as I did in that fight. Lend me yours?"

"Hospital first."

"Yeah, all right." Gilbert tried to rise from Ludwig's bed, then fell back, wincing in pain. "...Think I'm going to need a hand here."

* * *

Ludwig kept a close eye on Gilbert as he drove them to the hospital, hands clutched tightly around the steering wheel. The albino looked like he might faint at any second. Every time his eyelids drooped, Ludwig felt his breath catch in his throat. Glibert was staring hard out the window, so Ludwig didn't try to make further conversation. He didn't want to talk anyway. This all seemed so unfair. Mere hours ago, he'd felt comfortable and secure in his new life, light-years away from his past as a hunter. Now, though...

Now...

 _I should have_ known _better than to think I could escape. Not when Gilbert was still in it._ But did it have to happen then? Could he have had just one more day to enjoy the company of his friends, recover from last night's hangover, and just drink in the sweet _normality_ of it all? Why did Gilbert always choose the most inopportune moments to come barging into his life without so much as a 'by your leave'?

They came to a stop sign and Ludwig gave the breaks a sharp tug. Beside him, Gilbert groaned.

"Sorry," Ludwig muttered tersely. Gilbert didn't answer and he sighed. _Welcome back to your crappy life, Ludwig Beilshmidt,_ he thought bitterly.

They pulled up in the car park and Ludwig supported Gilbert's weight as they got out of the car, doing his best to ignore the looks they got from passer-bys. He could only imagine what kind of rumours would spring up around this. He knew it that what people thought of him should have been the last thing on his mind at a time like this, but he couldn't help it. Aside from Feli and Kiku, he was an outsider. Most other students were suspicious of him, the quiet, intimidating foreigner with a mysterious past who wouldn't speak about his family and only had two friends. Speculation was already spreading like wildfire in spite of Feli and Kiku's best efforts; that he was in a gang or in some European mafia, that he was on the run for the law... him turning up with Gilbert - the brother barely anyone even knew he had - like this at the hospital would only fan the flames.

 _Well, screw them. They don't know anything about us anyway._ His thoughts sounded an awful lot like something Gilbert might have said if he was lucid enough and if Ludwig would have dared confide his insecurities to him. It was funny how often Gilbert's voice took over in Ludwig's mind during times of crisis. _Holy water for demons, silver for werewolves, salt and iron for ghosts. Don't move, your awesome big bro has got this._ Gilbert would always leave Ludwig as backup in a safe hiding place while he went out to take the monster on head-on.

 _Just like he did now, leaving me at Stanford while he went of to find the Yellow-Eyed demon on his own._ He was a fool for not have seen through Gilbert's plan earlier.

He forced himself to stare straight ahead as he strode into the A&E reception room. He wasn't going to be embarrassed with Gilbert. His brother had probably saved at least one of the people in this room at some point in his career, even if they didn't know it. People could make whatever assumptions they wanted.

The receptionist looked up at the two of them with narrowed eyes. Ludwig could practically hear the gears turning in his head.

"My brother was mugged," Ludwig said before the receptionist could say anything. "Late last night. The name is Beilschmidt. I'm Ludwig, he's Gilbert."

The receptionist scribbled down the names. "You're enrolled at the university?"

Ludwig nodded curtly. "I'm in Law."

"But your brother isn't."

"Listen, I don't have time for small talk." Ludwig leaned in. "Just get my brother to a doctor, please."

The receptionist rolled his eyes, but called for a nurse over his shoulder. The nurse was a young woman with a round face and sparkling eyes who carefully pried Gilbert from his awkward position leaning against Ludwig's shoulder. "I'll look after him. Just wait here."

For lack of a better option, Ludwig obeyed.

* * *

He'd gone through five cups of coffee by the time he was allowed to see Gilbert again. After staying up all night with his friends there was nothing he wanted to do more than get a good, healthy dose of sleep, but he couldn't do that, not until he was sure Gilbert was safe. That was the drill between them; Gilbert constantly putting his life on the line for both good reasons and stupid ones, Ludwig constantly worrying about him. Stanford hadn't changed _that_ in the least.

Gilbert was currently sitting on his bed, arms crossed, fidgeting. His eyes lit up as Ludwig walked in. "Hey, West. They want to keep me overnight, you know. Talk them out of that for me, would you?"

"Like hell I will. You're staying as long as they want you to."

"But West..."

"That's the condition. Take it or leave it."

Gilbert pouted. "I don't think I've ever had this many stitches in me before."

"So you've set a new record for getting yourself recklessly injured. Would you like me to congratulate you on it?"

"That'd be nice of you, yeah."

Ludwig sighed and rolled his eyes. "Congratulations, you idiot. Now, do you remember the other part of the bargain?"

"Wha- oh, yeah." Gilbert held out a hand in front of him. "Phone."

Ludwig handed him his phone.

Roderich picked up immediately. "Ludwig? Has something happened?"

Gilbert paused for dramatic effect. "Not Ludwig, here."

There was a moment of stunned silence. Then: " _Gilbert?_ "

"Heh, yeah. What, you miss the sound of my awesome voice?"

"Don't be ridiculous." Roderich's voice was taut with annoyance. "You idiot - you absolute - utter - _imbecile._ What on earth is wrong with you? Ten years, Gilbert, ten years and it didn't occur to you to give us a single sign of life, and now you call me casually over the phone as if - as if nothing even happen. You just _disappeared_ in the middle of the night. What have you even been doing?"

Gilbert smirked. "Being awesome."

"You know," Roderich spat out in absolute disgust, "over ten years, one expects people - even people like you - to mature somewhat. To change, grow up, acquire a sense of responsibility and be less childish. But I suppose I should have known you would be the exception to that rule. You have no right to call me, Gilbert."

"I thought you'd want me to."

" _Want...?_ Yes, I wanted you to call me. For ten years I've waited by the phone in hopes of hearing something from you. I kept wondering if whatever had killed your parents had come back for you as well, if you'd been murdered or kidnapped and were waiting to be rescued. I stayed up all night thinking about it sometimes. Erzébet - she _still_ thinks about you, you know. People don't just disappear like that." Roderich heaved a deep breath. "And now - now here you are. Calling us. Your brother is in university. You expect us to believe that you're just fine living your own life in America, after we'd given you up for _dead._ Erzébet pleaded with the police not to close your case, you idiot, she - she was _crying,_ saying they had to find you, that she knew you were alive somewhere."

"Ah. Look, Roderich..."

"Don't give me that, Gilbert. You know, maybe you should have gone off and died somewhere. Then Erzébet and I could have mourned you, gotten some closure, and moved on. This is just..." Roderich breathed out again "...I can't. Don't call me again."

"Right. Well." Gilbert clicked the phone shut. "That went horribly."

Ludwig was watching him with an amused expression on his face. "Did it?"

"Roderich is as prissy as he's ever been. He lectured me for about five minutes straight, then told me not to call him again."

"You probably deserved it."

Gilbert smacked Ludwig lightly on the arm. "You keep in mind who's the older brother, here."

* * *

Erzébet arrived home to the sound of frustrated piano music.

She remembered the days when hearing Roderich play piano had been a rare treat. These days, she could hum any one of his songs from memory. Not that it wasn't a treat any more - Roderich's playing was, and would always be, exquisite. But she'd also learned to read his mood from it. Today, his fingers traced over the same sequence with growing impatience, probably searching to fix an imperfection he'd spotted. Any imperfection, even if it was too small for Erzébet to spot, would torment Roderich until he was rid of it - and, by extension, lead to him tormenting Erzébet with it. This time, though, even Erzébet with her untrained ear could hear him fumbling over the notes. He was distracted.

Erzébet slid open the door to the living room with care, knowing that any sudden sound would disturb its occupant. "Hey, Roderich."

Roderich adjusted his sheet music. "Hello, Erzébet."

Erzébet studied his face. Hair immaculately brushed, as always, clothes pristine - but there were shadows under his eyes and his gaze was directed slightly downwards, at a patch of floor to her left rather than being levelled at her.

"How was your day?" Erzébet asked, noting from his awkward posture the tension in his shoulder. Roderich sighed.

"I can't get this piece to work. I keep practising and it just gets worse and _worse_ and..."

"That settles it, then." Erzébet made sure to look straight into his eyes, even if he was avoiding hers. A deep brown, sharp yet warm and comforting. Regular brown eyes, yet they still stood out to her. "You need a break."

Roderich pinched the bridge of his nose, heaving a deep breath. "I can't afford it. This song needs to be _perfect -_ "

"-And it won't be if you work yourself to death like this. Have you left the piano for more than an hour this week? You need to relax, Rod."

A silence settled between them. Roderich fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve, bringing a smile to Erzébet's face. Roderich spent so much time at the piano, it just wouldn't be natural for him to keep his fingers still. She considered him. This was hardly how she had imagined her life turning out, but she could hardly complain. She had a stable career, Roderich was careful, caring and hard-working, and even if it wasn't what she had expected she was happier with him than she had any right to _expect._

"Erzébet..."

Erzébet leaned in to kiss her husband.

His lips were surprised but responsive, tender and delicate. She could feel his sweetness, feel the tension ease out of him. After a few seconds she pulled away. Roderich's cheeks had turned slightly pink and he wouldn't look at her at all any more. She wondered when he would stop being embarrassed by these kinds of gestures. After all, they _were_ married.

"Erzébet," he began again, hesitantly.

"What's up with you, Rod?"

Roderich polished his glasses with his shirt, a completely unnecessary act since they were spotless as always. "Erzébet, Gilbert called. On Ludwig's phone."

For a few seconds, the only word Erzébet heard was 'Gilbert'. Then, _Gilbert called._ Her mind couldn't quite process the words. Roderich might as well have said 'Santa Claus exists' or 'the Tooth Fairy visited'. Gilbert didn't _call._ It was a reality she'd had to put up with for almost half her life.

"Are you sure?" she croaked. Roderich nodded.

She stared down at her hands, realising only then that they were tightly clenched.

"What happened?" The potential scenarios ran haywire through her brain. What on earth could be important enough to make Gilbert break ten years of radio silence like this? Maybe he was dying, maybe Ludwig was in trouble, maybe...

"Nothing."

Erzébet stared at him. "You expect me to buy that? He's kept us in the dark since the night he took off with Ludwig and now he's calling us all of a sudden and you think I'm going to believe that _nothing happened?_ What kind of an idiot do you take me for?"

"I'm telling the truth."

" _How can you be?_ " Erzébet realised she was yelling, and Roderich didn't deserve it, but she'd earned the right to be upset. "How can you just - throw this - at me -"

Her voice faded as she felt Roderich's arms wrap around her shoulders, drawing her close. Roderich rarely used physical gestures to communicate with her, but she appreciated this one. She pressed her cheek up against his neatly ironed shirt and anchored herself to the present, letting the possibilities and hypothesis, fears and dreams and hopes from across the ocean, fade away as she focused on her present life, here in Austria with a loving husband holding her tight, where Gilbert was just a distant childhood memory.

She squeezed Roderich back.

* * *

Upstairs, Erzébet flipped open her laptop, opening every file she'd saved to it that was important to the task at hand. Maps of America spanning most of its states, Stanford's Law School website and student registry, bank accounts, transaction records, security footage clips, FBI records...

Roderich didn't know about any of this. He would be horrified at the skills she'd learned since Ludwig had given her a new spark of hope. Hacking, tracing credit cards... if a policeman came across her laptop, she would probably be arrested on the spot. (It was vaguely ironic, then, that her younger cousin-in-law was studying Law).

Of course, she doubted her 'skills' had anything on the things Gilbert had picked up since running away. He'd always been the rebel who went out of his way to break any school rules he could get away with, but he'd never expected him to wind up impersonating FBI officers.

 _Oh, Gilbert. What are you up to?_ The last she knew of him was when a 'Frederick Hédevary' had made use of the Beilschmidt savings account to pay for a shady motel room five miles from Stanford. She wasn't sure whether to be amused, annoyed or outraged by Gilbert's use of her maiden name.

Her phone was heavy in her pocket. She gazed at her laptop screen. _Maybe I should just end this criminal game of hide-and-seek now._ It seemed impossible that after all this, all it might take was a simple phone-call. With shaking hands, she dialled Ludwig's number.

 _"Hello, this is Ludwig Beilschmidt speaking from Law School in Stanford. Please leave a message and I will call you back at the earliest opportunity."_

Erzébet flung her phone onto the bed, where it landed with a soft thunk. _Of course. I should have known._

* * *

 **Thank you so much to my one reviewer, and also to anyone who followed or favourited this story :). Remember, reviews can make an author's day.**


	3. Chapter 3

Ludwig stumbled through the doorway of his apartment and almost crashed into Feliciano. The young Italian's eyes lit up at the sight of his friend. Ludwig responded with a tired smile of his own, leaning slightly against the doorway to keep himself upright. His pause was all Feliciano needed. He ran forwards to pull Ludwig into a hug. "Ludwig! What's going on? Are things okay? Will Gilbert be all right?"

Ludwig stood there rooted his place, not knowing what else to do. Feliciano's copper hair tickled his face and the tightness of his grip restricted Ludwig's space far more than Ludwig felt comfortable with. As gently as he could, Ludwig pried himself away from Feliciano. _I wonder if Feli's freeness with physical contact is a cultural thing, or if it's just specific to him._ The request that Feliciano stop doing such things lingered on the tip of his tongue, but somehow he couldn't force it out. He didn't know if it would upset Feliciano. The last thing he wanted to do was seem like he was trying to push one of his only friends away from him.

Interacting with Gilbert was always so much simpler. Between the two of them, he always knew how things stood; how much he could say and do and what was going too far. Under most circumstances, if Gilbert tried to hug him, Ludwig would tackle him to make him get off. Gilbert would probably find any _other_ reaction bewildering.

"...Ludwig?" Feliciano peered up at him, worry sketched clearly across his features, and Ludwig suddenly regretted not returning his friend's hug. He was always like this, fumbling around, unable to respond properly to the warmth and openness Feliciano offered him. _How have I earned a friend like this?_

"It's fine." Ludwig forced his face into a smile. He wasn't sure he succeeded - it felt stiff and unnatural - but he hoped the message got across to Feliciano. "Gilbert will be fine. He's coming home tomorrow." Ludwig clicked the door shut and shrugged off his coat.

"That's great news!" If Feliciano saw the falseness of Ludwig's smile, he was doing his best to compensate by beaming as brightly as he could. After a few seconds, a thoughtful expression flitted across his face. "You know... we've been flatmates for at least two years now and I still don't know much about your family."

 _Trust me, you don't want to._

"It's not fair, ve! You know all about _my_ family."

Ludwig couldn't argue with that. He'd been reluctant to meet Feliciano's family at first, but it hadn't been so bad in the end. Feliciano's twin was grumpy and rude yet strangely endearing and their grandfather was... well. For once, he had to admit Gilbert would have put it best: Feliciano's grandfather was _awesome._

"You know I prefer not to discuss my family."

Feliciano looked down. "Ah... okay then."

Ludwig couldn't miss the look of disappointment on his friend's face, but it didn't last for to long. "Oh! I almost forgot! I made dinner earlier. Would you like some?"

 _Dinner._ Belatedly, Ludwig realised he hadn't had a chance to eat anything all day long. His stomach rumbled. _Yes, I should probably eat something_ _._

"Yes, please," he said.

* * *

Ludwig hadn't fully realised how hungry was until he tucked into a bowl of warm pasta. Say what you would about Feliciano, but he was a good cook. Unlike Gilbert. When he'd lived with Gilbert, most of their food was bought whenever they could at some convenience store. Sometimes he preferred to go hungry than to eat the greasy, burnt stuff his brother would bring in. "This isn't bad."

"This?" Feli smirked. "You've never tasted real Italian cooking, Ludwig. My mother would be ashamed to know what kind of things I'm feeding my friends."

Ludwig shoved another forkful into his mouth and said nothing. He wondered if Feliciano expected him to notice the constant references to family that peppered their conversation. He wondered how Feliciano would react if he told him the truth about _his_ family. _My mother was pinned to the ceiling and burnt to death by a demon when I was a kid. My older brother got me out of the house in time, but my younger brother and father died in the fire. After that, my brother researched demons and the supernatural, tracked down the demon that killed our family to America in a crazy quest for revenge_ _, and we've been on the road together ever since, until my brother decided I should get a chance to go to university._ He was beginning to suspect that Gilbert's sudden concern for Ludwig's education had just been a ploy to get him out of harm's way while Gilbert pursued the yellow-eyed demon alone.

Feliciano would be terrified. After all, this was the same person who got scared any time Ludwig raised his voice at him even the slightest bit. He'd probably never want to see Ludwig again.

"I'm going on a road-trip with my brother tomorrow."

"That's a great idea," Feli said eagerly. "Family is important."

 _Tell me about it._

Ludwig swallowed down the last bite of pasta and stared at his empty bowl. Feliciano had started to chatter away about some incident involving him, his twin and a squirrel they'd tried to catch. Ludwig was listening with half an ear. He would have paid more attention to his friend, but his thoughts were scattered. He shifted his jacket, trying to move it into a position where the silver knife, vial of holy water and jar of salt that he had stashed in his inner pocket would stop digging into his skin. This was nice. The warm dinner, the easy conversation, the semi-permanent (at least for a few years) home he could come back to every night. But the thought of his brother curled up in his room, covered in blood, had lodged itself stubbornly in his brain.

He swallowed down bile.

"...And so Lovi had to call in the fire-fighters to help me get off the roof, and naturally they weren't too happy about it, and Grandpa tried to be stern but then he broke down laughing and said he had to be impressed that I'd even managed to get myself into a situation like that," Feliciano finished, a small, nostalgic smile lingering on his lips.

"I'll do the dishes," Ludwig said abruptly, getting to his feet. Feliciano pushed his own chair back.

"No, let me. You've had enough to deal with already today. Go get some sleep."

Ludwig frowned. "You've already made dinner. I can't let you do all the work."

"But... that wasn't work. I enjoy cooking!"

 _But if you try to do the dishes you'll probably break something. But it's my turn. But I'll feel guilty if I leave all the work to you._ He could have used any of those arguments, but they all died in his throat. He'd already rejected Feliciano's first gesture of friendship by pushing away the hug. Besides, his eyes were heavy and nothing sounded more appealing than falling into the warm covers of his bed and drifting off to sleep. "...All right. Thank you, Feli."

* * *

Gilbert was sitting in the hospital waiting room when Ludwig came to pick him, tapping his foot impatiently. He was _so_ ready to be out of that place. There were few things in life Gilbert Beilschmidt hated more than sitting around uselessly when there were things he needed to get done. On top of that, the smell of disinfectant was disgusting, seeing the other patients was just plain depressing and a can of sardines would have been more spacious than that waiting room. Also more comfortable. Gilbert rubbed at his stitches. _Hurry up, little brother._

As if on cue, the door swung open and the other people in the room stepped aside to make space for Ludwig. Even in the cramped space of a hospital waiting room, Ludwig towered over everyone there. Gilbert was sure his brother hadn't been quite so tall when he'd left for Stanford.

The brother's eyes met through the crowd and suddenly the people standing around Gilbert had to step aside to avoid being trampled by the albino as he launched himself forwards. The distance between them closed and then Gilbert had Ludwig pressed tightly against him, head resting on his brother's strong shoulder. Ludwig stumbled a half-step backwards in surprise at suddenly having all of Gilbert's weight bearing down on him.

"Mmphf," was all he managed to get out at first, patting Gilbert's back awkwardly, presumably in hope that the albino's vice-like grip would be released soon. Gilbert had other plans and just squeezed tighter.

"Get off me!" Ludwig said at last. Gilbert relaxed his grip and stepped backwards, taking in his brother properly for the first time since they had parted when he wasn't half-delirious from blood loss. It was immediately clear that college had suited Ludwig. He had grown into the seriousness that had once seemed almost comically awkward on him and now pulled it off with dignity. That was not to mention that he had grown in every _other_ way. And though his default expression was still a frown, it no longer looked like it had been etched in place with permanent marker. The idea of relaxing into a smile did not seem like it would be a foreign concept for his face any more. Gilbert put that down to his friend's influence. He'd seen how protectively Ludwig had stood in front of the redhead, the way he'd constantly turned to glance at him glance at him while he was in the room. Knowing how much difficulty Ludwig had befriending people, he was grateful to Feliciano.

"Mind telling me what that was about?" Ludwig demanded. His voice, though scratchy and harsh, sounded so much better in reality than it had over the phone.

"Hey, you've been away in college for the last two years. So maybe I missed you, okay?" Not that he _needed_ his younger brother around or anything, but 'needing' and 'wanting' were different things entirely. And it felt pretty damn good to have Ludwig at his side again.

Ludwig shook his head and smiled in wry amusement. Gilbert almost let out a whoop of victory at seeing it. So he'd been right; Ludwig _had_ learned to smile during these years. "What?" he asked.

"First of all, I never thought you of all people would admit to missing anyone. And secondly, what is it with everyone wanting to hug me today?"

Gilbert reached out to ruffle Ludwig's hair (that boy kept it far too slick and neat; it wasn't fair), but this time Ludwig was more prepared and swatted his hand away. "Maybe today is Hug Ludwig Day," he said. "It should be Hug Ludwig Day. I propose that from now on, the thirteenth of December be internationally recognised as Hug Ludwig Day."

"Don't be ridiculous," Ludwig said as he handed Gilbert his car keys, but the smile was still there.

* * *

The roadhouse Gilbert pulled up as struck Ludwig immediately as the typical place to find Gilbert in. Red paint that must once have been loud and bright now faded and peeling away at the edges, windows slightly grimy, and the whole thing tucked away on the side of a dusty road that almost certainly hadn't been repaired this century. Ludwig wished that once in a while Gilbert would find himself a better place to stay. After all, if Ludwig could afford to go to Stanford, surely Gilbert could afford some decent accommodation now and then.

All in all, Ludwig wasn't really sure about this whole thing. Gilbert had told him they were meeting the two hunters he'd been working with - Francis and Antonio - here. If Ludwig knew one thing about hunting with a partner, it was that you had to be ready to place your life in their hands on a regular basis. Maybe Ludwig had no real information to make a judgement on yet, but his gut instinct rebelled at the thought of trusting this mysterious pair with Gilbert's life.

As Gilbert pushed the door open, Ludwig decided that the interior of the roadhouse looked no less shady than the outside. It wouldn't have been so difficult to ensure proper lighting, but no-one had gone to the trouble of doing so. There weren't many people there - a barmaid working at the counter, a small group of rowdy teenagers and two young men sitting together at a table, huddled over a stack of papers. They seemed the only viable candidates to be Francis and Antonio. The taller was sandy-blonde with wavy hair that reached down to his shoulders and a sophisticated blue coat that was entirely at odds with his surroundings. His posture seemed almost regal, straight-backed with an air of aloofness. A bottle of red wine rested by his elbow, untouched.

The shorter figure looked like the taller one's opposite. Dark-haired and tanned, he faced towards Ludwig and Ludwig could see the glint in his eyes from across the room. His jacket was beige, worn-out and tight-fitting.

Gilbert made a beeline for them. He dragged a seat from the neighbouring table over next to the taller of the two, then flung his arm casually around the man's shoulder. Ludwig stood awkwardly to Gilbert's other side, unsure whether to pull up a chair of his own. "Hey, guys. Guess who's back?"

The man turned away from his dark-haired companion to face Gilbert. "Ah, _mon ami._ " Even had the man spoken English, Ludwig would have recognised the accent as unmistakably French. He supposed this man was Francis. "You aren't looking so good. Where have you been? Antonio and I were beginning to worry."

Gilbert shrugged his left shoulder, then winced as he realised it was still injured. "It's no big deal. I was following the lead you and Antonio found, but another demon found me before I could get to Yellow-Eyes. It was just small fry, no match for the Awesome Me of course, but it was still tough."

"A _demon_ is no 'small fry', Gilbert." The man's voice was chiding, but amused. Ludwig's personal opinion was that this new friend of his brother's was far too nonchalant about the fact that Gilbert had almost died - thanks to information _he_ had apparently procured, no less.

"This one was compared to the demon I'm after," Gilbert replied.

"Still trailing Azazel?" Francis sighed deeply. It seemed to Ludwig that most of Francis' actions were rather too theatrical. Something about it put him off, along with the melodic lilt in his voice that just grated on Ludwig's nerves somehow. "Well, on your own head be it, then."

The dark-haired man - presumably Antonio - leaned in. "So this is the brother you're always talking about, then, I take it?"

All eyes shifted towards Ludwig, who scowled fiercely at the surface of the wooden table. He had yet to form an opinion on Antonio, but he was fairly certain he disliked Francis. There was no rational basis for the feeling; it was just one of those instinctive first impressions people sometimes got, and he couldn't shake it. Judging by the disdainful glance Francis cast him, Ludwig presumed the feeling was mutual.

Gilbert blinked. "Oh, yeah! I forgot about introductions. Francis, Antonio, this is Ludwig. Ludwig, these are the hunters I mentioned I was working with."

Francis turned to face Ludwig fully, eyebrows raised in silent appraisal. "So, you are the one studying in Stanford?"

"Yes, I am," Ludwig said curtly. He wondered how Francis managed to make the fact that he was a Stanford student sound like it was somehow a bad thing.

"Well," Antonio interjected. "It's great to meet you, Ludwig! I'm glad to have another hunter around. We can use all the help we can get."

Gilbert snuck a glance at Ludwig, trying to gauge his reaction to being called a hunter, but if he had one then it wasn't visible.

"I've got a lot of cases lined up and I'd really appreciate it if the two of you could lend me a hand," he added.

"I don't think -" Ludwig began, but Gilbert interrupted him.

"We'll be right onto it."

* * *

Ludwig sat propped up against the bed in the room they'd booked. Not a bad place, as these things went. The standard of hygiene was decent, the toilet was functional, there were no holes in the bedsheets and the whole place didn't smell as if something had crawled under the mattress and died there. It was no Stanford accommodation, but all in all he couldn't complain.

He tapped a pen idly against his leg as he waited for his laptop to turn on. This, at least, was a steady staple of his life. Whether it he was researching ghosts or the outcome of some obscure court case in Michigan, it just felt _right_ to find himself a quiet place each day where he could take out a notebook and a pen and gather up as much useful information as he could find.

Ludwig tapped the pen again. _Let's see, what do I know about this case?_

First thing first, was it even necessarily a case? People died for perfectly mundane reasons all the time. A few facts stuck out as suspicious, though. Firstly, there was the timing. Until a few years ago, Jericho had been known as a safe enough city. There had been a few incidents, sure, but nothing to this scale. Then, just two years back, the monthly accidents had started cropping up. Ludwig made a note of that. _Check out the newspaper reports from two years ago. Especially the obituaries._ If this was anything down their lane, it was most likely a ghost. Then there was the survivor's testimonies. The police dismissed it as drunk teenagers with over-active imaginations, but -

The door swung open and Gilbert ambled in. Seeing Ludwig at the laptop, he gave a little wave. "Hey West. What're you doing cooped up in here?"

Ludwig narrowed his eyes, looking up. "That should be obvious. I'm researching."

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "C'mon, now. You just got out of a term of studying, and you're just going to put your head right back into the books? You're no fun. Come downstairs and have a drink with us."

"Gilbert..."

"You know you want to..."

"Gilbert!" Ludwig snapped. Gilbert pouted.

"Yeah, that's me. What's up, little brother?"

"That's not the question." Ludwig pushed the laptop away to look directly at Gilbert. "What I want to know is what's wrong with _you?_ Yesterday morning you didn't want to wait one night to recover before going after yellow-eyes. Now you want to take some random case your friend gave us, and you're not even interested in researching it?"

Gilbert shrugged, jumping onto the bed next to Ludwig. "Maybe I reconsidered about Yellow-Eyes. I may be awesome, but I have my limits. Right now I'm injured and y... well, I'm just thinking now isn't the best time to pursue it, that's all."

Ludwig frowned. "That's surprisingly reasonable of you."

Gilbert chucked a pillow at him. "Hey! Don't think just because you're in Stanford, you get to be a smart-mouth at me."

Ludwig picked up the pillow and lay it down next to him. "I don't understand this change in attitude, that's all," he said. "I thought the whole point of this trip was to go after Yellow-Eyes."

"Yeah, well." Gilbert rolled back a shoulder. "We're out of practice at working together, West. I just thought we should start small."

Ludwig looked down at the carpet, eyes burning, and studied how the green and blue threads entwined together in a simple zig-zag pattern. Gilbert wasn't saying the accusation, but it was still there. Maybe it was true that he'd gotten accustomed to college life, so accustomed that he hadn't seen, called, _heard from_ his brother for months before he'd shown up in Ludwig's flat, barely concious and covered in blood. He hadn't _meant_ to avoid Gilbert. Things had just... happened. There was so much _work_ to be done in college, and then there had been Feli and Kiku and...

 _That's no excuse for neglecting your only family like this, and you know it._

Gilbert studied Ludwig's face, frowning. "Hey, it's not such a big deal. We can go after Azazel soon. Besides, it'll be fun to go on a hunt together, huh?"

Gilbert looked so hopeful that Ludwig had to nod.

"I knew you'd come around." Gilbert reached out to muss his hair. Ludwig's instinctive reaction was to push him away, but he resisted the temptation. He didn't like people messing with his hair - or his appearance in general - but it wasn't so bad when his brother did it. There was a nostalgic familiarity about the gesture. "Now, are you coming downstairs for a drink or what?"

"The research still needs to be done, Gilbert."

Gilbert cast a quick glance around Ludwig's makeshift workplace, then slid off his bed and walked over to it. "Alright then, tell you what. I'll stay here and help you research, and _then_ we go have some fun."

"All right," Ludwig said, lips twitching into a faint smile.


	4. Chapter 4

_Tony Frank took a couple of deep breaths._ It's okay. It's nothing. You're panicking over nothing. Just keep calm.

 _Keeping calm was easier said than done, though. He could hear every crunch of leaves, every twig cracking, the pitter-patter that he prayed to God was just a bird..._

 _The lights in the car flickered and for one horrible moment Tony thought they would go out entirely. The darkness outside seeped into the car and the lights seemed to get weaker by the second. He didn't know what he'd do if they died._

 _Trees loomed in the distance, sinister in the dark. Was that a tree, or a human figure...?_

Stop thinking like that, _Tony chided himself._ You sound like a little kid who's still scared of ghosts. _Of course, it was harder to call such a fear_ ridiculous _when he'd seen the girl himself._ So, there was a girl standing on the road. Big deal. She could have been anyone, really.

 _Maybe it was a prank. Anyone could have dressed up as Bela Lambrecht to scare him._ _It didn't make much sense as a prank, though. Of all people to try to scare like that, why him? He'd barely_ known _Bela._

 _The lights dimmed again and Tony let out an involuntary curse._ Catelyn had _better_ be back soon, _he thought. His ankle was still throbbing painfully and he was all too aware that he couldn't move if he wanted to._

 _"Hello, Tony," a pleasant voice said close to his ear._

Oh, no. Oh no oh no oh no oh GOD no. _If he'd thought being alone in the car was scary, it had nothing on this. He squeezed his eyes shut instinctively._ This isn't real. I'm going to open my eyes now and there will be no-one there. Just like there should be.

 _He opened his eyes and found himself staring straight into the face of a teenage girl. Her strawberry-blonde hair fell to just below her chin, thick and pretty, and she'd tied it up with a green ribbon. Her warm green eyes gazed down at him. She seemed friendly, pleasant._

 _Tony also happened to know she'd been dead for two years._

 _"Bela..."_

 _"You remember me!" The girl's face lit up into a bright smile. "I wasn't sure you would. I try to be noticed, but it seems I'm always living in my brother's shadow."_

 _Her words, so_ normal _, barely registered with Tony. He was too busy staring at Bela as his mind struggled to catch up with reality. "You... you're..."_

 _"Dead?" The girl's smile faded, replaced by sorrow. "Yes, that's a pity. Dying hurt, you know? I was so scared. I had a whole life ahead of me and I wanted to live it." She tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. "I didn't deserve to die like that."_

 _Tony was sure his trembling had nothing to do with the cold. "I'm sorry, Bela. But why are you haunting me? I had nothing to do with your death. I never hurt you." He'd been sad when he'd heard about Bela's death. He'd never known the girl well, but he remembered her being sweet, kind, reminded him of his own little sister in fact._

 _"I know, Tony." For a second her eyes warmed again and Tony thought he saw some understanding there, some remorse. But then her expression hardened. "You hurt that boy, though. Paul? He didn't deserve to die either. He was scared. You should have saved him. But you didn't. And for that, you must be punished."_

 _"Bela - " Tony had intended to beg, to plead with her to be reasonable, but when the car collapsed in on him all he could do was scream._

* * *

"Excuse me, sir." Ludwig walked up to the police officer at the crime scene, who squinted at him and his brother. Gilbert was wearing a dark wig and thick glasses to hide his distinctive appearance, but he still stood out. Gilbert could have the most unremarkable outwards appearance in the world and he would still stand out. It was just something about him. Maybe it was the posture, cocky and proud but also with an air of dangerous confidence that told you his boasting wasn't just hot air. Ludwig wondered if he was the same. Maybe that was why most of his fellow students at Stanford mistrusted him.

"My partner and I are from the FBI. We'd like to see the crime scene," Ludwig said, flashing his fake ID at the officer. The officer leaned in to see in better. _He must have a problem with his eyesight._

"Feds, huh? And why exactly are you wasting your time at a small road accident like this?"

Ludwig shrugged casually. "There have been several incidents like this recently in this town, a sharp increase from the amount of accidents you used to have. We want to look into the road safety laws, see what's changed. I would hardly call that a waste of time."

"That's all you want then? Well I can save you a lot of bother. There's nothing wrong with our traffic system. The problem is kids these days. Drinking, staying up to all hours of the night... it's a wonder there aren't _more_ accidents. But if you still want to have a look, go right on ahead." He lifted the cordon surrounding the scene and gestured for them to pass through, then stopped, frowning. "For that matter, the two of you don't seem much older than kids yourselves. Rather young to be with the FBI, aren't you?"

Ludwig froze. _Oh, no..._

"Hey!" Gilbert's voice chimed in. "Who're you calling young? I'll have you know we've both finished our training."

The guard's expression turned from suspicious to amused and Ludwig let out a breath of relief. Thank God for Gilbert. "So this is your first real assignment? No wonder you're on something this small."

Gilbert's face turned red. If he was faking the embarrassment, Ludwig had to admit he was impressed. _My brother is one hell of an actor. And they say Roderich is the talented one._ "Alright, yeah, it's our first time, but I wouldn't say we've been delegated to something trivial!"

The guard help up his hands. "No offense meant. So, is there anything else you'd like?"

"Yes, actually," Ludwig said. "I understand that there was another girl in the car with the victim who escaped unscathed. Could we talk to her?"

"As a matter of fact, we have her in the station just now. I could take you there first. Just follow me."

* * *

The girl was wrapped up in a shock blanket sipping a cup of hot cocoa. Her black hair was a dishevelled mess, bits sticking up like she'd just been electrocuted. Her eyes, previously cast downwards, flickered up at the sound of the two men approaching. They were puffy and red-rimmed.

"Hello," Ludwig said gently. The girl gave no reply.

"My name is Emmerich. I'm with the FBI." The girl continued to watch him in silence.

"Your name is Catelyn, correct? We'd like to ask you a few questions, if you don't mind."

"I already gave my testimony." Catelyn's voice was quiet, but surprisingly firm. "Please stop swarming me with questions. I don't want to talk to anybody else."

"This will only take a few minutes, I promise. It would really help me and my partner."

"Yeah." Gilbert pushed Ludwig out of the way and knelt down to be at eye-level with Catelyn. "Hey, I don't blame you for not wanting to talk to Emmerich. He can't help scowling at everyone he meets."

On cue, Ludwig turned to scowl at Gilbert. Gilbert gave him a wide smile. "See what I mean?"

Catelyn couldn't help cracking a small, shaky grin that disappeared as soon as she realised it was there. Gilbert leaned in, encouraged. "Problem is, my partner and I may be awesome but even we have our limits. There's not much we can do if we don't _know_ anything. So give us a hand and tell us what you saw, okay?"

Catelyn stiffened and straightened up. "...Okay." She swallowed, taking a few deep breaths. "So I was in the car. My older brother - Tony - was driving. It was late. We were driving past - I don't remember. We were coming into the city. I had this concert in the next town over - see, I play piano - and Tony had to pick me up." Her voice wavered for a second and Gilbert thought she was going to burst into tears.

"Hey, my cousin plays piano too," he said to distract her. Catelyn smiled shakily.

"...Yeah. Well, we were driving - that is, Tony was driving - and it was all dark and stuff and I didn't think there would be anyone there, but then suddenly there was this - there was a _girl_ in the middle of the road. She looked like a student. Short, strawberry-blonde hair, tied up with this green ribbon. So Tony swerved - you know, so he wouldn't hit her."

"And then he crashed?"

Catelyn squeezed her eyes shut. "Well... yeah. But thing is - when we crashed he was _fine._ I mean, not like _fine_ fine, but not - not..."

Gilbert handed her a tissue.

"...Thanks. Well, Tony's leg was broken. He couldn't move, so I called an ambulance and then he told me to - to go get help. I didn't want to leave him but he insisted. He was panicking, started yelling at me to get out of the car. So I went to find a petrol station or something. And then I remembered the girl. I thought, she couldn't have gotten far. Anyway, I thought she should have stayed to make sure we were okay, or something. That's what anyone would have done, right? Except I couldn't find her. And I was starting to freak out, because it was late and I was alone and Tony had been acting so _strangely_ and somehow I found that girl really creepy. I mean, one moment she was there in the middle of the road staring at us and then she was _gone._ I started wondering what she was even doing there. I mean I'm sure she saw us. I thought maybe she was trying to kill herself, or something? And then I heard a scream. And I ran back. And Tony was - the car was - I mean, there was blood everywhere and..."

Catelyn broke down again.

"So he didn't die in the crash," Ludwig said. Catelyn snapped her head up, having forgotten he was there.

"No. I mean, the cops assumed he did, and I didn't want to say anything at first and then when I started talking about a disappearing girl they all thought I was drunk or something and I mean, can you blame them? It doesn't even make _sense._ None of it makes any sense."

"Thank you, Catelyn," Ludwig said.

"Yeah, thanks for talking to us. Can you just answer a couple more questions?"

"I guess."

"Did Tony have any enemies?"

"No! I mean, maybe. There were people he didn't really click with, but not really _enemies,_ you know? Like, he's on a basketball team and he fell out with some of his team-mates, but it was nothing _serious,_ just some stupid quarrel. You know what I mean."

"You bet I do. How about any secrets?"

"Not as far as I know. There was - no, it's nothing. There's nothing."

"All right." Gilbert handed her a piece of paper with his phone number. "If anything else comes to mind, give me a call, okay?"

"Okay."

Gilbert smirked. "Or, you know, if you just want to hear my awesome voice some more... you can give me a call then, too."

"Gi - Frederick!" Ludwig stumbled over his tongue switching to Gilbert's fake name.

"What?"

"Not appropriate."

"Oh, come on." Gilbert gave Catelyn a wave as he walked out. She returned it, hesitantly. "You know she was totally into me."

"Her brother just died, Gilbert!"

Gilbert shrugged. "Once she gets over it, she'll remember how awesome I was."

"Get over yourself."

"Not happening."

* * *

"So, are you thinking vengeful spirit?"

"I think it's too early to narrow it down that far."

Ludwig and Gilbert sat across from each other at a café table. Gilbert was talking through bites of ham and cheese sandwich while Ludwig sipped a cup of coffee. Gilbert rolled his eyes.

"C'mon, Luddy, it's obvious. The girl appeared and Tony was shocked because he recognised her, so he sent his sister away and then ghosty appeared again and did her vengeful spirit thing. Textbook case."

Ludwig narrowed his eyes. "First off," he said, "do _not_ call me 'Luddy'."

"Oh, so you prefer 'West', do you?"

Ludwig sighed. "If you must give me a nickname, then yes, I prefer 'West'. At least it's just baffling rather than embarrassing."

Gilbert shrugged. "Alright then, West. So how is this thing _not_ obviously a vengeful spirit?"

"Well." Ludwig tapped the table. "If it _is_ an angry ghost, why would it kill all its previous victims? Surely there can't be _that_ many people it wants revenge against."

"Why not? Maybe our ghost just had a _lot_ of enemies."

"Hm." Ludwig tapped his pen against the table, neither agreeing nor disagreeing. Gilbert hummed a few bars of Field's _Nocturne No. 5_ under his breath. He didn't go in much for classical music, but he'd heard that song on the radio while he was at the bar with Francis and Antonio and now it was stuck in his head. It made him think of Roderich. It was just the kind of slow, boring, sentimental tune Specs loved to play.

 _Focus, Gilbert._

"We should look up the obituaries in the newspaper. See if there's been any suspicious deaths recently, particularly connected to Toby Frank."

Ludwig nodded and typed something up on his laptop. Gilbert stretched his arms. _Ah, that's better._ Being stuck in an FBI uniform with an awkward wig and glasses to hide his _awesome_ hair and eye colour was making him really stiff and uncomfortable. He wondered if there was much point to the disguise, anyway; even if he did stand out, who actually knew him well enough to _recognise_ him? If anything Ludwig should be the one in a disguise; he could run into a fellow classmate or teacher or someone else from Stanford and then the game would be up and Ludwig would probably be in big trouble. Gilbert hadn't gone to all the trouble of faking Ludwig's documents so that he could enrol in university just for him to be kicked out _now._

 _I'll have to keep that in mind for our next hunt._ If there would even _be_ a next hunt. Gilbert was all for taking the small cases to help people, but currently he had a more important trail to follow, and _that_ one would have to wait until Ludwig's concern for him was sated and he could drop his little brother back off at Stanford. He'd lost enough family to Yellow-Eyes already; if he had his way, Ludwig wouldn't be within ten miles of Azazel, _ever._

"Gilbert!"

Gilbert was snapped back to reality by the sound of Ludwig's voice. A few people sitting at nearby tables turned to glance at them, much to Gilbert's amusement.

"Didn't whoever raised you teach you to use your inside voice? Oops, that's right, I didn't. Guess even the awesome me messes up from time to time." He flicked a stray crumb in Ludwig's general direction. Ludwig clamped a hand down on in, rolling his eyes.

"I'd use my inside voice if _you_ could stop daydreaming for five minutes and pay attention. I was trying to tell you something important."

 _Oops._ Gilbert smiled sheepishly. "Ah, okay. Sorry. Go on then."

"So I found this one article," Ludwig said. "There was a death a few months ago. The Franks' neighbours were going out for a day and hired Tony to babysit their kids. One of them ran out onto the road and got hit by a car. People thought there was going to be a trial against Tony for negligence, but the neighbours didn't push the case."

Gilbert narrowed his eyes. "Funny Catelyn didn't think to mention that."

Ludwig shrugged. "I guess she didn't think it would be relevant."

"So you think the kid is our ghost?"

Ludwig shook his head. "Unlikely. The kid was a six-year-old boy, not a teenage schoolgirl."

"Annoying." Gilbert frowned. "Any other suspicious deaths?"

"Not connected to Tony."

"Any articles on _other_ potential ghost victims, then?"

"That I have found." Ludwig adjusted his laptop so that Gilbert could see the screen. "Last November, a high school teacher drowned in the local river. Her husband said she was pushed in. He was on the other side of the river and heard her screaming 'let me go', but he couldn't find anyone at the scene that might have attacked her." He switched to another tab. "And this May, a teenage boy was murdered. His friends were screaming about a ghost, but the authorities took no notice of them."

"Let me see those articles." Gilbert grabbed the laptop from Ludwig. "All the people who died were from the same school, right?"

Ludwig frowned. "...You're right."

Gilbert grinned. "C'mon, West, let's pay this school a visit."


	5. Chapter 5

Heads turned as the two men walked through the hallways.

Oliver Foster supposed he shouldn't have been so surprised, really. Another dead student, another visit by the Feds. Just one more standard investigation... probably.

Twisting his finger around the silk green ribbon he kept in his pocket, he wondered when such things had ceased to be shocking and traumatising to be slotted neatly into the realm of routine and mundane, only slightly more remarkable than class tests and long homework assignments.

Students parted to make way for the two Feds, then continued about their usual routine. The clanging of locker doors, the pushing and shoving and jostling for space... Oliver paid no mind to it. His eyes were fixed on the FBI agents.

They were a strange pair. Most police officers Oliver was used to struck him as bored and impatient, eager to get the day's work over with so they could hit a pub together and chat about what grizzly crimes they were investigating, or... whatever it was police officers did after hours. Their questions were as useless as they were monotonous, and they made Oliver's head hurt. _Were you and Bela close? Yes, I suppose we were. Where were you when she was attacked? I already_ told _you. Can you describe your relationship with her for us? I have five words for it: none of your bloody business._ This pair was... different, though. Not your usual bored, tired old men. The blonde one looked like he couldn't be long out of university. Probably a rookie.

That would leave the shorter one as the one with experience. He was smaller, but he didn't look weaker. To be honest, if Oliver were to pick one of them to get into a fight with, it would probably be the bigger one. He might be physically overbearing, but Oliver guessed that he would be less likely to be willing to break someone's neck if it came down to that.

What he couldn't take his eyes off of, though, was the smaller one's face. It was hard to see much thanks to the thick glasses that obscured most of it, but he could tell that under those glasses, his left eye was bruised. A row of stitches ran across his jaw. Whatever this guy dealt with most of the time, Oliver doubted it was traffic control

 _So someone gets knifed to death and the best they have to send in is their incompetent, idiotic locals, but one random car crash and suddenly it's time to send in the Feds?_ Something didn't add up here. Oliver shivered. The pair made him uneasy. Not that there was any reason for them to give him any trouble. He hadn't _really_ been involved in any of that stuff from two years ago, anyway.

 _Whatever._ It's not like it really mattered to him anyway. Oliver turned away from the two men and head off to History class.

* * *

The school principal ushered Gilbert and Ludwig into his office. It was a cramped office that had seen years of use, littered with newspaper articles detailing the achievements of various past pupils, awards that had been gifted to the school, documents, pens, paper, and empty mugs. Gilbert spotted Ludwig examining the back. It was possibly the only part of the room to have been kept clean - spotless, almost - and neat. Rows of students stared out at him from class photographs. He chuckled. Trust his brother to gravitate towards the one tidy part of the entire room.

The principal himself was a small, grey-haired man with dark, weary eyes that looked like they were counting down the days to his retirement. He shook both Gilbert's and Ludwig's hands in turn.

"Please, make yourselves comfortable," the principal urged. Gilbert was quick to take him up on his offer, leaning back against his desk as casually as if he were at home with Ludwig, while Ludwig himself wandered over to the corner with class photographs. "Whatever questions you have, I am at your disposal to answer them."

"Thanks." Gilbert flipped absent-mindedly through the pages stacked on the man's desk. They dated back at least twenty years. "Say, you've been working here for quite a while, huh?"

"You could say that." The principal smiled tiredly at him. "Truth be told, I can't really imagine having any other job. Sometimes it feels like I was born to run this school."

"I get it." Gilbert dug his hands into his pocket. "Sometimes, the job just picks you, am I right?"

The principal turned to look at Gilbert sceptically. "Something like that. But I don't imagine you really have much experience with that kind of thing. You're far too young. You should keep your options open until at least into your thirties, that's the advice I always give my students. Not like I did. Of course, that's what I do, isn't it? Try to prevent the next generation from repeating my mistakes."

"Hmm." Gilbert was still fidgeting with the papers, but his mind wasn't really on them anymore. He was thinking about the principal's words. _Not bad advice. Too bad it's too late for me, though._ Ludwig, though... now that was a different story."This school's seen a lot of trouble lately, though, hasn't it?"

"I suppose so." The principal peered at him. "Didn't use to be like this, you know. I didn't think I'd have to deal with so many tragedies when I picked the job. Sure, there's always been some underlying tension in the school, with gangs and such, but it never used to get quite so far out of control. I don't know what went wrong here. Sometimes I feel like I'm on a sinking ship and every time a plug a hole a new one appears. I just hope my efforts to keep things together are doing some good."

Gilbert glanced sidelong at Ludwig, who still seemed absorbed by the photographs. He knew a thing or two about sinking ships himself, but at least as long as Ludwig kept his place in college he could rest easy knowing that his brother had a life raft available if things ever did get too bad. That was all he could really ask for, in the end, wasn't it? "So what can you tell me about this Tony Frank?"

The principle shrugged sadly. "He was a good kid. About to graduate this year. He had good grades, he was studious and friendly and athletic. Everyone liked him, more or less. There was only one incident I can recall, but I'm not sure it's relevant to your case."

"Anything is relevant." That was the motto - or rather, one of many mottoes - that he had drilled into Ludwig since they had first started working cases like this. As with most things, Ludwig had taken it and stuck to it more thoroughly than Gilbert himself, who was prone to brush off small details when impatient.

"Right, well. Tony was babysitting his neighbour's kids, and when he wasn't really concentrating one of them - a little boy called Paul - ran in front of a car and was killed. No-one really blames him for it - there was obviously nothing he could have done - but he beat himself up quite a lot about the whole thing. I really doubt anyone would have wanted to cause him harm because of that, though. Like I said, he blamed himself more than anyone else did."

Gilbert nodded. He was about to reply when Ludwig's voice rang out from across the room. "Sir?"

"Yes?"

"Could you tell me who this girl is?"

Gilbert walked over to Ludwig and craned his neck to see over his little brother's shoulder. He studied the girl he was pointing at for a moment. She was fairly average. Pleasant-looking, with a nice face and pretty eyes and hair. The boy standing next to her in the picture seemed to agree, if the way he held her hand was anything to go by. Her eyes were brought out by the green ribbon in her hair -

 _Oh._

Gilbert couldn't believe it hadn't clicked before. Fairly short, hair shoulder-length, green eyes and green ribbon... she matched Catelyn's description perfectly. _Nice work, West._

The school principal frowned. "That's Bela Lambrecht. You seem to have a lot of background information on this school, so I presume you're already familiar with her case?"

Gilbert and Ludwig shared a meaningful glance behind the principal's back. They were _definitely_ onto something with this. "Not so much, no," Gilbert said.

The principal sighed. "Yes, well. I don't think you want to hear about it. The case has been wrapped up for years, and beside, she has no connection to Tony that I can think of."

Gilbert flashed the principal his best winning smile. "Look here, our boss will have our heads if we don't cover all possible bases. You understand what I'm saying, don't you? So please, humour us."

He sighed. "All right. I'll tell you in brief. Our area, it's always had these two young gangs. They were just teenagers doing stupid stuff, really, but there was a lot of rivalry there and as the authorities, we were doing the best we could to get them under control before things got really bad. Bela, she was mostly a bystander. As far as we can tell she was innocent. But some of her friends were involved in this stuff, especially Pierre and Oliver - he's the one holding her hand in the picture. The other gang wanted to get to them through Bela but she refused and - things got ugly. I don't think anyone meant to kill her. Our guess is that was an accident. At any rate, tensions turned into full-on war after that and it took at least a year to calm things down. But I'm telling you, Tony was never involved." The principal closed his eyes for a moment. "There is one more thing, though. About a year afterwards, the teacher of Bela's class drowned. There were suspicions of foul play being involved, but no proof."

"D'you know where she was buried?"

The principle turned to regard Gilbert with suspicion. "The graveyard down the road, I suppose. But I fail to see how that's -"

Ludwig had a notepad out and was scribbling down every word the principal said. Gilbert looked on in amusement. He wondered how his brother had grown up to be such a swot. It certainly wasn't his influence. "Thank you, sir. Can you do one more thing for us?"

"That depends on what it is."

Ludwig tore out a page from his notebook and wrote his number on it. "Give this number to the students, please. Ask them to contact us with any suspicious information they might have."

The principal nodded. "Of course."

* * *

Oliver took down the number issued to them apathetically. He had to, since the teacher would probably complain and make a fuss otherwise, but he had absolutely no intention of ever using it. Authorities, he'd found, were much like crows; they only came down to inspect the carrion when there was absolutely nothing that could be done to improve the situation. Besides, he could hardly tell them about any of the things that were really bothering him. He had no desire whatsoever to be sent to a psychiatrist - or worse. Some things were better kept to himself.

Bela was waiting for him at the corner as he walked home. Of course she was. He tried to ignore her, but couldn't help his eyes flickering in her direction. She took this acknowledgement as an invitation to walk alongside him.

"How was your day, Oliver?"

Oliver said nothing. Just because he was seeing dead people was no reason to converse with them. Of course, had she been the _real_ Bela Lambrecht, he would have been all too happy to talk to her, but the real Bela was _dead_ and he wasn't going to give this hallucination any time of day.

"Not talking to me today? That's okay. I'm not insecure. I used to be, but you helped me with that. You were always there for me." Bela's voice had taken on a nostalgic note. Oliver sighed. He wished she would just _leave_ and stop tormenting him. The memories were hard enough to take without not-Bela coming around shoving them in his face like that.

His grip on the green ribbon in his pocket tightened until he was afraid it would tear.

"Well, almost always," Bela added and Oliver swallowed. It was moments like this that made Oliver sure Bela was just a hallucination, nothing more. The real Bela had been too sweet and kind to tug at his guilt like this.

"I mean, you _did_ promise to protect me that one time -"

" _Stop._ " The word came out before Oliver could stop it and he cursed himself. Talking to her only encouraged her. He wasn't sure how that worked, since she was just a figment of his imagination, but it did and that was that.

"Oh, I'm sorry. Does that make you feel bad? I didn't mean to, but sometimes justice has to be carried out. I mean, take Tony. He felt _so_ bad for letting Paul die, but that didn't fix things, did it? It won't put back the joy that was stolen from his family, won't give Paul back all the years he could have had. _Someone_ had to make Tony feel the pain he caused, didn't they?"

Oliver would never understand why his mind had decided to conjure up a bitter, twisted, psychopathic version of the girl he'd loved to torture him with, one that went around claiming to have killed various people.

"And you... you can't fix things either. One day, I'm going to come back for you as well."

Oliver stared hard at the girl. There was no malice behind anything she said. If anything, she was smiling at him lovingly, regretfully. And then, just as Oliver was about to open his mouth and speak to her, she was gone.

Oliver reached up to wipe the tears away from his cheeks before walking into his house.

* * *

Gilbert and Ludwig walked out together into the chilly evening air.

It was a nice day. There was no strip of cloud to block out the pale winter sun, the light of which danced across the thick layer of frost that coated the pavement and crackled under the brothers' feet. The trees in the school yard were all bare except for a pine tree that had been decked out with Christmas lights and ornaments. Gilbert's gaze trailed after it as they walked through the gates.

"Pretty festive place considering recent events, huh?" Gilbert asked.

Ludwig shrugged.

"It's been a while since we've celebrated Christmas together, hasn't it, little brother?"

Ludwig smiled. "I suppose it has."

Gilbert's lips twitched upwards in an almost involuntary reaction to Ludwig's expression. That at least two smiles in two days that he'd scored. He was making progress, here. Or rather, Ludwig had been making progress. Mostly without him. His little brother would always be serious, but it was nice to see that Stanford had loosened him up. It had worried Gilbert how much time Ludwig spent frowning. He always suspected it was his fault for not giving his kid brother a proper, carefree childhood to enjoy. "Hmm. D'you remember Christmas in Bonn?"

Ludwig nodded. "I remember you taking me to the Christmas Market. You were more excited than I was."

Gilbert laughed. "Hell yeah, can you blame me? Those were awesome! I mean, they had everything you could want. Toys, gingerbread, sweets... it was like a child's heaven in there!"

Ludwig cast Gilbert an amused glance. "I'd say that would _still_ be heaven for you."

"What can I say? I'm still a child at heart." The two walked side by side in silence for a moment, a nostalgic smile lingering on Gilbert's lips. For all Ludwig said, he remembered Ludwig getting excited enough himself at that time. His little brother just contained himself better, was all.

He pulled his thoughts away from the subject before he could think too much about it. Their house, how he, Ludwig and Emmerich would run around stringing up tinsel. Their father's and grandfather's childhood stories and photo albums.

(That was before he'd found out about the parts the two men had left out, the nightmarish bits not suitable for the ears of little kids.)

"We should do something together this year."

Ludwig turned to look at him in surprise. Gilbert held up his hands, defensively. "Hey, don't look at me like that. What's wrong with two brothers spending Christmas together? It'll be fun. We'll get some drinks, a movie, I dunno, maybe even some firecrackers or something."

"Sure."

It was Gilbert's turn to be surprised. "What, no objections?"

"Why would I object?"

Gilbert shrugged, laughing. "Of course you wouldn't. Who could ever object to my awesome ideas?"

Ludwig gave Gilbert a friendly shove that nearly knocked him off his feet. Gilbert couldn't tell whether that meant Ludwig had gotten stronger, or just that he was still very weak after his injuries. He shoved Ludwig back, trying to ignore the soreness in his side. _I haven't enjoyed a hunt this much in... years,_ he realised. He really had missed his brother. _It's good to have you back, West._

* * *

 **Happy Halloween, people! Another rather uneventful chapter... but don't worry, things are really going to get going next chapter. Thank you to everyone who left reviews! Please keep doing so, reviews make me very happy.**


	6. Chapter 6

" _Hola, mi amigo!_ "

"Hey, Antonio." Gilbert glanced at the door of the motel room, but it remained shut. Ludwig was still out. Good. Some conversations were not meant for the ears of little brothers. "Any news?"

"On Azazel?"

Gilbert rolled his eyes, a futile gesture since Antonio couldn't see him. "No, on your pet turtle. _Of course_ on Azazel!"

"There've been some storms and cattle deaths in Michigan, but that could be any powerful demon. Other than that, not much."

Gilbert groaned. He'd known running away meant there was a strong possibility he would completely lose the trail. And he had been _so close,_ damn it! Now he was back to square one, and all because he'd decided to make a break for it instead of pushing through no matter what. "Really, _nothing?_ "

"Calm down!" Antonio laughed. "Come on, man, you need to relax. I don't know why you're so eager to find this thing. I mean, it's probably just going to bring you one step closer to being killed. If I were you, I'd be _thankful_ that it's nowhere to be found."

"Don't _you_ lecture me, too. I've already got a brother who takes that as a full-time job. Look, I've been searching for Yellow-Eyes since I was _twelve._ Of course I'm eager to -"

Gilbert broke off his sentence as the door clicked open and Ludwig walked in. "-Sorry, got to go. I'll call you back later."

"Wait, Gil -"

Gilbert hung up the phone as Ludwig laid two pots of ready-made breakfast porridge out on the table. "I've brought some food."

"Yeah, I can see that." Gilbert took his pot and dug in eagerly. "Thanks, West."

"Who were you on the phone with?"

"Just Antonio." Gilbert fidgeted with the cuff of his sleeve. "I called him up to see if he had any extra details on the case."

Ludwig frowned. "I see. Why did you hang up when I walked in, then?"

"Geeze! What's this, the Spanish Inquisition? I was done talking then, that's all."

"All right." Ludwig started on his own bowl of porridge. "No need to get so defensive."

"I'm not defensive."

"All right. If you say so."

The two brothers finished breakfast in silence. There was no missing the suspicious look on Ludwig's face. Gilbert cursed himself for not being more careful. The last thing he needed was for Ludwig to be tense and on guard, and it wouldn't do their relationship much good either. They'd been getting along so well since reuniting, it would be a shame to spoil that now.

As Gilbert searched for something to say to break the awkward silence, Ludwig's phone beeped. Ludwig grabbed it away from Gilbert and switched it back on. The scowl on his face faded as he read the text.

"Your boyfriend?" Gilbert guessed.

" _Flat-mate._ And, yes, it is from Feliciano. He and his brother have gotten into a fight over how to open a jar of peanut butter and he wants my help because he's afraid Lovino is going to break the jar."

It was amazing that Ludwig could say all that with a perfectly straight face. Gilbert blinked owlishly at him. "So... let me make sure I've got this right. Your boyfr- sorry, _Feliciano_ is texting you because... he needs you to give him _instructions..._ to open a jar... of _peanut butter?!_ "

"That's what I said," Ludwig deadpanned.

Gilbert couldn't hold back his laughter any longer. "Oh, _man._ How did this guy survive before he met you?"

"That," Ludwig said, "is a question worthy of thorough investigation." He looked back down at his phone and began type a response.

"Let me see what you're writing." Gilbert craned his neck to catch a glimpse of the screen. "You're giving him the instructions? You are actually giving this Feliciano _step-by-step_ instructions on how to -"

"Yes, Gilbert," Ludwig interrupted. "I am. Now please be quiet and let me type."

There was no hope of Gilbert fulfilling this request, however, seeing as how he was currently rolling around on his bed in stitches from laughter. "That's... that's just... I need a transcript of this conversation so I don't forget it. Ludwig, promise me you'll get me a transcript of this conversation."

Ludwig's phone beeped again. Gilbert snatched it from his hands eagerly.

"Gilbert! Give that back!"

"Not a chance!" Gilbert ran across the room, clutching Ludwig's phone to his chest. "I need to read this. Let's see." Gilbert cleared his throat. "' _Thanks so much! I didn't get a chance to use the instructions though because Grandpa came downstairs and solved the problem for us. Also, Lovi is mad at me now for texting you while I'm supposed to be spending time with him, but that's okay. I know it's just his way of showing he cares. He says I should 'get off the phone with that potato bastard for one goddamn second or he'll smash it to pieces' but I know he wouldn't. And don't get mad at him for calling you that, he has rude names for everybody.'_ And there's a smiley face at the end." Gilbert smirked. "That has to be one of the sweetest text messages I've ever read. You've landed yourself one cute guy there, West. Possibly someone even more useless than Roderich, but still, hopelessly cute. I hope you know how lucky you are."

"I know exactly how lucky I am to have Feliciano as a _friend,_ " Ludwig said. "And how _un_ lucky I am to have a brother who insists on speculating on the extent of our relationship even after I've told him a dozen times that _I am not dating Feliciano._ "

"'Just friends?'" Gilbert snickered. "That's not what Feliciano's text sounded like. You're so cute when you're in denial, West."

"I fail to see how you found anything in that text that was remotely suggestive of us being anything _but_ friends. Now will you please _give me my phone_ so I can answer him?"

"Sure, sure." Gilbert tossed Ludwig his mobile phone, which Ludwig deftly caught. "I wouldn't dream of preventing you from replying to your soulmate."

"... _Gilbert_... you know, I'm fairly certain Feliciano is straight."

"And I'm fairly certain he _isn't._ And I'm older and wiser, so there."

"Gilbert..." Ludwig rested his head between his hands, the perfect picture of exasperation. "I should think I know my friends better than you do, considering you only have one text message and a very brief meeting to go off of."

"I have enou -" Gilbert broke off as he heard a loud hammering at the door. "- Let me get that."

* * *

Saturday morning. First day of his winter break.

Oliver Foster stretched, yawning, as he stumbled out of bed. His parents were out of town for the weekend, gone to visit some cousins. That was a small blessing, at least. Normally he would have gone with them, but when he'd insisted that he wasn't up for it they'd exchanged worried glances, but said nothing. They had long since given up on trying to get through to him. ( _Are you okay, Oliver? Do you want to talk? You shouldn't blame yourself, Oliver -_ ha, if only they knew, _We're worried for you._ ) These days they mostly just let him be and hoped things would get better on their own.

Which he was sure they _would_ have, if his mind could just stop haunting him with visions of his dead not-quite-girlfriend.

He switched his phone on and glanced at the watch on it on his way to the bathroom. Eleven o'clock. He'd slept in. Well, whatever. It wasn't like he had anything to get done today. Probably just sit down on the couch, turn on the television, and waste the day away. That would be bliss.

He played a song on his phone as he brushed his teeth. Some upbeat, punk tune. The kind Bela didn't like, although she was too nice to ever tell him that.

He spat out a mouthful of water and foamy toothpaste before rinsing his face. The splash of cold water was refreshing against his skin.

The sound on his phone halted for a few seconds, then continued scratchily at a slightly lower volume. Oliver frowned. _Bloody old piece of technology. I hope I get a new one for Christmas._

He glanced up at himself in the bathroom mirror - and stopped dead.

She was right behind him. If she leaned forwards just a little bit her hair might tickle the back of his neck. _But... this isn't possible. Bela has never appeared when I'm at home before._ It was the one steadfast rule his hallucinations had always stuck to. Home had become something of a safe haven for him thanks to that. It was one of the main reasons he'd been looking forwards to having the day to himself so much.

He turned to look behind him. No Bela. She was just in the mirror.

Oliver shrugged and headed back to his room to change, trying to shake it off. It was just his imagination. There was no need to be afraid of his own mind, it couldn't hurt him. But... he'd thought the hallucinations would _leave_ once he got over the worst of his grief. Instead, they were getting worse. He rubbed at his temples. He didn't know what was _wrong_ with him. He wasn't insane, delusional or unbalanced.

He pulled on a casual shirt and trousers and headed to the kitchen to pour himself a bowl of cornflakes, but he realised he didn't have much of an appetite. He didn't particularly feel like watching anything on the TV either.

It seemed like this would be another day spent curled up in bed with music blaring on his phone to block out all his thoughts, then. Oh well. At least his parents weren't here to ask what was wrong with him.

* * *

"Hands in the air, _Emmerich and Frederick,_ " the police officer standing at the door snarled. He was one of the ones Gilbert and Ludwig had spoken to at the police station before meeting Catelyn. He'd been friendly enough then. Now, not so much. He stared at 'Frederick' for a few seconds in surprise. "...Well, I'm not surprised _you_ felt the need for a disguise," he quipped. "Now, hands where I can see them."

Ludwig's hands had gone up the moment the two policemen had burst in the door, but Gilbert took longer to raise his. Ludwig narrowed his eyes at him. _Just let them take us, brother. Don't make a fuss, please, you'll only make the situation worse._ Gilbert's gaze met his and Ludwig tried to communicate all that non-verbally, but he wasn't sure if he succeeded.

"I _said,_ put your hands up!" The police officer repeated. Reluctantly, Gilbert obeyed. Ludwig let out the breath that he'd been holding. Good. Fighting wouldn't gain them anything. Maybe he could find a way to talk their way out of this. He _was_ studying Law in Stanford, after all, and...

 _Not after this, you won't be._ Ludwig quenched the negative thoughts. Hope was not lost. Yes, impersonating FBI officers was a serious offence, and yes, he couldn't currently see any way out of this, but if there was anything he and his brother excelled at it was getting out of situations that seemed impossible.

One of the officers - a shorter one with dark, keen eyes - clapped a pair of handcuffs around his wrist. Their metallic coldness burnt into his skin and he ached to remove them somehow. _I've never been arrested before,_ he thought idly. _I wonder why. It's not like there hasn't been ample opportunity in the past for something like this to happen._

People stared at the two brothers as they were marched down to the police car - motel staff, customers, a passer-by or two on the streets. Ludwig's face burned and he stared at the pavement ahead of him. _Thank God_ _I'm not in Stanford. No-one recognises me here._ Of course, if he and Gilbert didn't do something soon to rectify this situation, word _would_ get back to Stanford. He didn't want to think about how people would look at him when they heard about _this._ They mistrusted him enough as it was.

Ludwig couldn't help but be irritated by Gilbert's carelessness. It had been _his_ job to procure fake I.D.s and make sure their covers held. Trust Gilbert to overlook something in such a vital task and land them in this position. Ludwig was already risking enough by going on a hunt with Gilbert after he had sworn that he was _done,_ and this wasn't even the hunt Ludwig had signed up for. He'd wanted to help his brother track Azazel, _not_ hunt some ordinary ghost in some small town in the middle of nowhere. That had been Gilbert and Antonio's initiative.

The officer holding Gilbert opened the back door of the police van and shoved Gilbert inside. Gilbert landed awkwardly, wincing in pain.

"Be careful with him, he's injured!"

The officer turned to face Ludwig. "You're hardly in a position to tell me what to do."

Ludwig frowned at him. "I could have you charged with maltreating prisoners -"

"West?"

Ludwig looked over to Gilbert. His brother had managed to straighten himself up somewhat, but he was still grimacing in pain. He rolled his shoulder awkwardly, wincing. Ludwig thought he heard something crack. "...Yes?"

"You should really shut up now."

"Listen to your partner, smartass," the officer commented. Ludwig clamped his mouth shut and let himself be hauled into the car next to Gilbert in silence.

He and Gilbert were left sitting on their own in the back seat. Ludwig wasn't able to help Gilbert up, though, seeing as he himself was cuffed. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

"Fine," Gilbert hissed back. "I'm awesome. And I'm trying to plan our escape right now, so if you've got any ideas..."

Ludwig had to admit that he was stumped. Escaping from supernatural creatures he could handle, but he had less experience with escaping from police officers.

"You got anything I could pick a lock with?" Gilbert asked in a low voice. Ludwig shook his head. "Well, damn."

"You two," bellowed a voice from the front of the car. "Shut up back there before we have to make you."

The two brothers fell quiet once again.

* * *

Ludwig had seen the Jericho police station before, but then he'd been walking in as a (fake) FBI agent, not a prisoner. Now it seemed much more intimidating. Gilbert, to his left, didn't seem particularly phased. He walked towards the uninviting doors with all the swagger of a prince walking into his castle.

That is, until he collapsed to the floor.

Everyone turned to stare at Gilbert, who had curled in on himself, whimpering softly. Ludwig tensed. Under any other circumstances he would have run to his brother's side, but his police officer was holding him tight. Ludwig considered whether swinging his cuffed hands at his face would be enough to make him let go, but the rational part of his mind told him it wasn't worth it. Even if he forced the man to release him, he couldn't _really_ help Gilbert and would just make his own situation worse.

Gilbert's officer tried to turn him over, and Gilbert let out a soft groan. Ludwig clenched his fists. _For God's sake, you people are trained! You'd thing you'd know how to handle an injured prisoner without making things worse!_ "Hey, you," Gilbert's guard called. "Get over here and help me get this one back up on his feet."

As Ludwig's guard left him to walk over to Gilbert's side, Gilbert's eyes met Ludwig's. In half a second, his expression shifted from one of pain into a crafty smile. He winked. The words went unspoken between them. _Run now, brother._

Ludwig hesitated. He didn't want to leave Gilbert... but then, his brother wasn't in any _real_ danger, was he? It wasn't like the police would really hurt him. And Gilbert had planned this distraction, so it would be a shame for Ludwig to waste it. And he had more to lose by being arrested than Gilbert did in at any rate. Once he made his escape, he could come back for Gilbert.

There was only a split second to make his decision. Without thinking any further, Ludwig seized his opportunity and took off running.

His officer was the first to notice him take off. Intending to give chase, he spun around, but before he could move Gilbert sprung to his feet and moved to sweep the officer's feet out from under him.

Ludwig couldn't stay to see how the fight developed. His heart was racing. He just hoped Gilbert would be all right.

* * *

 _Stupid phone. Stupid music. Would it be so hard to just_ work _for at least one bloody hour without freezing up on me like that?_

Oliver gave his phone a couple of hard shakes, to no avail. He sighed.

"Oliver."

Oliver didn't need to look up to know who was speaking. Honestly, he didn't _want_ to. He was tired of Bela following him everywhere, driving him quite frankly insane. His teachers had blamed his sudden distracted atitude on grief and him working through personal issues. He supposed they weren't wrong. Just slightly off the mark on what those 'issues' entailed.

"My brother came to my grave today. Left me tulips. It was very sweet of him."

Oliver buried his head under his pillow. _I'm sorry, Bela. Okay? I'm sorry you're dead. Now just leave me be. Please._

"Tony was in his class. Did you know that?"

Oliver didn't understand why Bela kept talking about Tony. The real Bela hadn't even really _known_ him.

"You know, until now, I haven't done anything out of vengeance. I just wanted to bring a little justice to this world. There are _so many_ people in this world who let those they _should_ be protecting get hurt, and then they go unpunished."

Oliver _wanted_ to look away, but he couldn't tear his eyes away from the tears that were trickling down Bela's cheeks. This wasn't the Bela he knew. Hell, this wasn't even _Bela;_ she was just some trick of his mind.

Nevertheless, he didn't want to see her cry.

"You're probably wondering why I'm coming after _you,_ not Karl. After all, Karl was the one who stabbed me. But the thing is, I know it wasn't personal. I was _expecting_ him to attack me." She took a step towards Oliver. "And I expected _you_ to save me."

Oliver flinched.

"You _promised._ "

Oliver turned away. _She's not real,_ he reminded himself. But that didn't mean the words she said weren't true either.

"I thought you were such a gentleman, you know. So sweet, so considerate. You _noticed_ me, went out of your way to help me. I suppose you could say I fell head over heels for you. Biggest mistake of my life."

Oliver squeezed his ribbon. He'd never really been sure how Bela felt about him. She'd been to shy, too kind to _everyone_ for him to feel special. But he'd known he needed to make _her_ feel special, cared for, protected.

"So I told you everything. Because I _trusted_ you. When I said that I was scared, that my closeness to you and Pierre might put me in danger, you said - you said you would protect me. I believed you. That night, when Karl stood there threatening me with his knife, do you know what I thought? I thought, _Oliver will come save me._ Even when he left me alone and bleeding in a cold alleyway, I kept waiting for you to come. And now -"

Bela raised a hand. The door behind Oliver swung shut. Oliver stared at it, wide-eyed. _That... there must have been a gust of wind, or... or something._ "I just wanted you to save me." This time, it was Oliver who went flying across the room. His head bounced against the wall and he felt dizzy. _What the_ hell _? Hallucination don't do this. This can't be -_

Bela's form flickered and she reappeared in front of him. As Oliver tried to get to his feet and run, she slammed him down again. His eyes watered. His phone was just inches from his hand. He looked at Bela. She looked back at him. His fingers reached out. _I need to call someone..._

* * *

Once the footsteps receded into another alley, Ludwig took a much-needed moment to catch his breath. His handcuffs still hung heavily from his wrists. He would need to get those off.

He'd stumbled into a dilapidated, empty bookshop. Rows of books towered over him on old-fashioned wooden shelves. His eyes scanned the titles reflexively. He would love the chance to stop and browse through some of those books... but now was not the time. Thanks to his older brother, he - the studious Stanford student who never created any trouble and always did what he was told - was on the run from the police. The adrenaline forced a shaky laugh from him. _You couldn't let me have a quiet life, could you, Gilbert?_

There was a loose nail in one of the shelves. Ludwig smiled as it caught his eye. _That should do the trick._ His fingers fumbled to pry it out and slip it into the keyhole. Luckily, it was the right size and slid all the way in... _click, twist, turn._ They were off. _While other people were teaching their kid brothers to ride a bike, Gilbert was teaching me to pick locks._

His phone was beeping again. Ludwig pulled it out. Three texts, all from Feliciano. Now was probably not the time and place to be reading Feliciano's texts, but his curiosity got the better of him.

 **11:15 am:** _By the way, how's the road-trip going? I hope you and Gilbert are doing well. You really need a chance to relax :)._

 **11:25 am:** _Hey, Ludwig? Are you still there? Are you busy?_

 **11:30 am:** _Oh, I almost forgot to mention something! I'm going to be at our flat tomorrow evening. I got you a Christmas present yesterday and I wanted to drop it off. I understand if you're too busy with your brother, but I'd really really like it if you could be there so I could give it to you in person. I just know you'll like it!_

He'd never gotten Feliciano a Christmas present, he realised. He'd been occupied with other things. He'd drop by an arts shop later and get some oil paints. Feliciano would appreciate that... probably. Ludwig wasn't very good at getting people presents. He could never think of anything they weren't already likely to have. But if Feliciano had gotten something for him, he should at least _try..._

 _I'm not sure if I'll make it, but I'll do my best. I probably won't be able to talk to you for a while, but I'll call you as soon as I can. -Ludwig,_ he texted back. Now that that was done, he needed a plan to break Gilbert out. That wasn't going to be easy. He would -

Ludwig's train of thought was broken by the sound of his phone ringing.

"Hello?" he asked cautiously. He didn't recognise the number.

"I'm being attacked!" The voice on the other end of the line sounded shrill, young and panicked. Ludwig pulled the phone away from his ear to prevent damage to his eardrums.

"Slow down and tell me where you are and who's attacking you."

"I'm in my house. 14 Ashford Street. I'm being attacked by - by a girl." There was a slam and the connection crackled. The boy on the other end shouted something more into the phone, but Ludwig couldn't hear him. "-Agent! Hello? Are you there?"

"Yes. This girl - does she have strawberry blonde hair and a green ribbon?"

There was another break in the connection. When the voice came through again, it sounded fuzzy. "-not crazy, I swear! She's real and she's here and -" For a second Ludwig was sure the connection had broken for good, but then the voice came through again. "-just get over here and help me, would you?"

"Go to the kitchen and find the salt."

"Bloody _hell,_ agent, I told you I was being serious!"

"So am I. Get all the salt you can find and make a circle around yourself. I'll be there as soon as I can."

"I -" _Click._ The line went dead.

Ludwig stared at his phone. The last thing he wanted to do was run in alone, but what else could he do? Saving this boy was more of an emergency than breaking out his brother.

* * *

 **Thank you to lenge and MageOfFandoms for reviewing! I hope people like this chapter :).**


	7. Chapter 7

"Salt," the officer searching Gilbert's pockets remarked, pulling out a small container of it. Gilbert's possessions lay spread out across a wooden table, just out of his reach. Some of those items gave the officer reason for concern; a lighter, for one, and a knife. A couple were mundane; a pen, a phone. And then there were the ones that just plain _baffled_ him.

"What? It's a useful condiment," the albino said with a smirk. Officer Paul O'Connor looked almost involuntarily towards his handcuffs to make sure his hands were still securely fastened. Paul didn't like the man's smile, as if he knew something Paul didn't. It was very tempting to punch him in the face, but Paul abstained, if only because punching him would require getting close and after the man's previous escape attempt he was reluctant to do so.

"If I hear one more smart comment from you, I swear to _God_ I will hit you." Paul was not a violent man. He really wasn't - he avoided fights whenever he could and much preferred the legislative side of police work that most people found boring. This man, however, was one of the most frustrating he had met in a long time. Firstly, the fact that he'd fooled Paul with that fake badge was _inexcusable._ It made Paul look like an idiot. Paul was not an idiot. He'd been working for the police for ten years, when this guy would probably have been some tween having his first crush. Then, to rub salt ( _who the hell carries_ salt _in his pockets anyway?_ ) into the wound, there was the way he'd tricked Paul to let his partner escape. As the saying went, 'Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.' And as if _that_ wasn't enough, Paul had been scouring the database and there was no trace of the albino. No birth certificate, no school registration, no previous conviction, nada. You'd _think_ an albino like him with that cocky, brazen attitude and penchant for trouble would stand out somehow, but this guy might as well have been a ghost for all Paul could find on him. Or, with those eyes of his, a demon.

The worst of is was that glint in his eyes that told Paul he knew exactly how frustrated he was and was enjoying every second of it.

"Will you?" the man said, putting his elbows up on the table and leaning in. "Go ahead, then. Come over here and hit me. Unless you're scared, that is. Because I think we both know that I am _way_ more awesome than you."

And here he was now, calling Paul's bluff. Paul rubbed his temple, where he still had a bruise from being hit by the man's handcuffs on the way into the station. "I don't think you understand how much trouble you're in. "

The man actually _laughed_ at this. Genuinely amused laughter, as if Paul had told some great joke but only the albino was in on the punchline. "Oh, joy. Trouble. Where would I be without it?"

Paul frowned. _The sooner I can finish this interrogation so that I never have to deal with this cocky bastard again, the better._ "Look here, kid." _Kid_ hardly described him. In spite of his youth and his immature words, the tension in his posture, injuries he had already sustained and ability to fight told Paul he had left his childhood behind long ago. Paul wondered if he'd even had one. Lots of these types hadn't. "You ever been in jail before? Because I assure you, you don't want to be. But seeing as you're still young, the judge _might_ be lenient and give you a shorter sentence... _if_ you co-operate and give us the information we want."

The albino tapped a finger against his cheek, as if considering, but Paul had a feeling he was doing no such thing. "Hmm. What information?"

"You and your partner's real names, for starters."

That got another laugh. "Oh, that one's easy. He's West and I'm awesome."

Paul rolled his eyes. He had just _arrested_ the man, and still he was there laughing it off as if they were having drinks in a bar. What would it take to get him to take this _seriously?_ "'Awesome' is not a name and no-one is named after a cardinal direction." He considered things for a moment. The man might want to act blasé and impenetrable, but everyone had a weak point. So what could possibly... ah.

Paul let his gaze soften a little. "Look, I understand. You want to protect your partner, don't you? Thing is, you're going about it the wrong way. His little escape has only bought him some extra years behind bars when we do catch him - and don't worry, we will. Everyone is traceable - and probably in a worse place than we'd put him in otherwise. It would be easy to pile on even more penalties - _especially_ if you continue to be stubborn about this. Now, would you like to reconsider your first answer?"

Paul saw the man's jaw clench. For just a second, his fingers curled in - and then he relaxed again, leaning back into his chair. "You'll never catch him, bastard," he muttered, venom replacing the bravado in his voice from earlier. Paul had been looking for a reaction, but to be honest the extent of it surprised him. The albino had shown no _anger_ until then, just complete lack of concern for his situation. Unlike many other people Paul had had to deal with, he didn't seem to have anything personal against the police.

Against people who threatened his partner, though...

Paul knew he had him. It was just a matter of time. Of course, it would _help_ a lot if he could actually make good on his promise to catch the other one, but that couldn't be _too_ hard.

He got to his feet and walked to the door of the holding cell. "Have fun staying here overnight, then," he said before locking the door behind him. "I'll be back tomorrow."

* * *

Ludwig prayed to God no-one would decide that an early Saturday afternoon in mid-December would make a good time to visit a graveyard.

Bela Lambrech's grave was small and neat, tucked away in a corner of the cemetery under an ash tree to give it shade. Someone had laid out a bouquet of tulips in front of it. The boyfriend, maybe? Well, it didn't really matter. Ludwig didn't have time to speculate it presently. All he had to do was dig up the body, salt and burn the bones and then get out of there before someone caught him and he was arrested.

Again.

Digging graves was harder than it looked. Anyone who has ever tried to make a hole for planting something in their garden know that the ground offers a lot of resistance, especially once you get past the first layer of soil. A better shovel might have made things easier, but Ludwig had had to buy this one on the run from a DIY shop and it wasn't especially strong. He hadn't wanted to take the risk of the police still waiting for him by the car.

Then there was the psychological aspect. You'd think that years of experience would help one grow accustomed to these things, but Ludwig would never be able to shake off the feeling of _wrongness_ that came with taking a shovel and opening up someone's coffin. It wasn't just the prickling sensation at the base of his neck that told him he was being watched (pure paranoia, of course, but who could dig up a grave in broad daylight _without_ being paranoid?). There was the thought of what any passer-bys would think - say, even - if they saw him. There was the feeling that he was intruding on the privacy of a sweet high-school girl who's boyfriend still brought flowers, even years after.

The knowledge that this was the only way to stop the girl's ghost from murdering people made the task easier to stomach, but only just.

The smell of what was left of Bela's flesh burning off made Ludwig's stomach turn. The first time he'd done this, he'd thrown up all over Gilbert's shirt. Gilbert, needless to say, had been less than pleased with the reaction, complaining about Ludwig ruining a perfectly good item of clothing, but he hadn't taken Ludwig to a salt-and-burn for at least half a year afterwards. Ludwig wanted to believe that it had more to do with him not wanting to upset his younger brother than with avoiding being covered in Ludwig's vomit again.

The fire sizzled out and Ludwig couldn't throw the earth back over the casket quickly enough. The shovel trembled in his hands and occasionally some dirt would go the wrong way and leave a black stain against the grass. Ludwig was sure he hadn't had such a violent reaction to these things since he was a kid. All that time at Stanford must really have softened him.

He considered leaving the shovel there, but then the cops could use his fingerprints to trace it back to him. He would have to find a garbage can to leave it in later.

He walked away at a brisk pace, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Bela's grave. As he did so, he pulled out his phone and returned a call to the boy who'd been attacked earlier.

With every ring that went unanswered, Ludwig's uneasiness grew. _Damn it, boy, just pick up the phone._ The longer he spent making sure this kid was all right, the less time he had to find a way to get Gilbert out the police station. And that was a daunting enough task as it was.

The phone had been ringing for five minutes straight and still no answer. Frustrated, Ludwig jammed a finger at the 'end call' button. This wasn't meant to happen. He'd burned the bones, the kid should be _fine._ Still...

 _What was the address again? Ashford Street?_

He typed that name into his phone's GPS then took off running.

* * *

Ludwig had expected to have to break into the boy's house, but the kid hadn't even thought to lock the door. No-one answered when he knocked. Not a good sign, but not a surprising one either. He pushed the door open and walked down the hall. No-one said anything. Not a sound in the house. Ludwig could hear his every breath echoing around him. _Too long. I took to long._

He wasn't particularly surprised by what awaited him in the kitchen. The boy had made it down there. He'd taken Ludwig's advice and found the salt, but it hadn't done him much good. Tiny white grains lay scattered around him, all but invisible against the tiling.

The blood was far less invisible. It pooled out around his head, the only sign of any injury. His eyes were a green that had probably been sharp and bright before, but was now glazed over. Ludwig sucked in a breath. _Gilbert would have been fast enough to save him._

He turned towards the door. He'd failed. There was nothing left for him to see.

"Ludwig Beilschmidt."

Ludwig spun around sharply. A girl in a pretty dress stood over the boy's body. Ludwig knew what her features would be before even examining them. Strawberry hair. A round, sweet face. Green ribbon holding her hair back.

 _Not possible. I burned her bones._

"You know my name?" Of all things that didn't make sense, that was the one it made most sense to remark upon. _Just play it calm. Don't make her angry._ He dug his fingers into his pocket, ready to pull out his container of salt. It wouldn't be enough. He'd used most of it during the salt-and-burn. They'd brought an iron crowbar to fend ghosts off with but he'd left that in the car.

"I know a lot of things." Bela smiled serenely. "It comes with being dead. I can see _so much more_ now. Everyone's secrets, everyone's failures. Every day I get stronger. And I realize more reasons why those around me deserve to be _punished._ " On the last word Bela's smile dropped and her eyes narrowed. Ludwig swallowed.

 _Keep her talking. Ghosts like nothing more than to hear the sound of their own voice,_ he remembered Gilbert saying.

 _Just like you?_ he'd shot back then, and Gilbert had rolled his eyes and laughed.

"So you're punishing people. For what?"

"For breaking their promises. For not saving those they _should have._ "

Almost involuntarily, Ludwig's eyes dropped to the dead boy on the floor. If there was anyone he _should have_ saved...

Bela caught the direction of his gaze. Of course she did. She laughed, a tinkling sound. "Oh yes, you're guilty too. And not just for Oliver. You didn't owe him so much, really. Didn't even know him. But the people you're _going to_ fail... tell me, Ludwig." She edged closer. "Your Italian friend. So sweet, so trusting, so _defenceless._ Do you really believe he's safe with _you?_ You and your brother don't just attract monsters, you _hunt them down._ One day those around you will pay for that, and it will be your fault for not protecting them."

Ludwig's face burned. Bela shouldn't know anything about Feliciano. Good God, he had had _enough_ today with people thinking they knew something about him and Feliciano!

Besides, what Bela said was ridiculous. He wasn't really endangering his friend. If anything, Feli was safer for having him there to protect him.

"But it isn't really fair to judge you for things that haven't happened yet, I suppose. On the other hand, other people in this town have things to pay for that have most definitely happened." Bela lifted her hand in a gesture that may have been a wave. "I'll be seeing you, Ludwig."

And with that, she was gone and Ludwig was left alone with his thoughts and the boy whom he had failed to save.

* * *

 **I just want to give a huge thanks to MageOfFandoms who has reviewed every chapter of this so far. You're the best!**

 **The start of this chapter was fun to write. I wanted to have someone else's point of view of Gilbert just to show how _aggravating_ he can be.**

 **One more thing. Besides the obvious references to Hetalia (that is, using characters directly from there), I have been and will be making occasional historical/Hetalia references to the cases. In this one, Bela is Belgium and Oliver is England... kind of. I didn't want to use Arthur Kirkland since he'll be playing a more important role later and Oliver is a name I've seen used for an alternate personality of England. The case was based of a headcanon that I've adopted from some historical fic on this site where Belgium had a crush on England pre-WW1 for his chivalrous promises and was disillusioned when he failed to protect her from invasion. I ran with the idea, changed it to suit the plot, and... this happened. It's not really important, just something that helped me get inspiration.**

 **Remember, reviews are love!**


	8. Chapter 8

_This sucks,_ Gilbert thought. He glared daggers out the door of his cell, but his gaze met nothing but the wall. He hadn't seen another person since that damn officer had shut the door behind him.

He clenched a fist and imagined smashing it into the officer's smug face. At first, Gilbert had found the man mildly irritating, but most likely not all that bad underneath it all, maybe even someone he could potentially develop a grudging respect for. Working for the police force couldn't be an easy job, after all, even if none of the threats you had to deal with were supernatural in nature. That impression, however, was rapidly fading. Ever since the end of the interrogation session, the officer was proving again and again just how well he knew to get under Gilbert's skin. As if threatening his brother wasn't enough, it seemed he had now decided to leave Gilbert alone to stew. Gilbert wished he could say he was too awesome for such tactics to work on him, but the truth of the matter was that he was, indeed, stewing. For all his training, these cells were designed to keep expert criminals. If he was to get out, his only chance was human error.

Which was rather hard to come by if he was offered no human interaction to speak of.

If there was one consolation for him, it was the knowledge that Ludwig hadn't been brought in yet. If he had, the police officer from earlier would have wasted no time in using that against Gilbert.

 _Ludwig._ Gilbert let his head fall into his hands with a hiss of frustration. _Everyone is traceable._ The words stuck in his mind no matter how hard he tried to shake them off. They weren't strictly _true._ He, Gilbert Beilschmidt, was most likely not traceable, since the only person who really knew or cared that he was alive was his little brother. Said brother, however... well, the matter of him staying at Stanford relied entirely on the police not connecting the blonde German man they'd just arrested with the student matching the same description and staying just a few towns over.

That was not a chance Gilbert was happy to have to take.

Gilbert was so absorbed in his thoughts he almost missed the flicker of lights, but his instincts were not quite so dull. The moment it registered with him he sprang to his feet, eyes scanning the cell for any iron. There were his cuffs. Which, oh yeah, just happened to be tying his hands to a chair, so not so good for swinging. Or for his mobility in general.

 _Of course this would happen now. Just my luck._

Another flicker - this time so long he thought he would be left in the dark - and when the light came back she was there, standing oh-so-casually in the doorway as if she were an old friend come to pay a visit and not a murderous ghost that most likely wanted to bash his head in.

Gilbert breathed out sharply. _Shit,_ he thought, but what he said was, "Bela. Nice of you to drop by."

Bela tilted her head. "You're not surprised."

A shrug. If she was talking, she wasn't attacking, and he wasn't becoming a bloody splatter on the wall, so it was all good for him. "Your principal told me about you. My condolences about your death and everything, though it would have been better for us all if you'd stayed that way." As soon as the words were out Gilbert regretted them. Maybe he wasn't the most tactful of people, but he didn't have a death wish either, so insulting the vengeful spirit he was locked up in a small room with may not have been the best of moves. "Truth be told, I don't really see what you're here for. I don't even _know_ you, so I don't know how I could have wronged you."

"Don't worry about that." Bela didn't _look_ offended. That was something, at least. "This is nothing personal."

Gilbert bit his lip, scanning the room for something - _anything -_ that could be used as a weapon. _The Awesome Me isn't going down by way of a petty, small-town ghost. Not while I've got a demon to hunt._ The only option, then, was to keep her talking so she wouldn't start killing. "What _is_ it, then?"

Bela smiled and Gilbert thought she looked utterly deranged. The smile was not the carefree one of a seventeen-year-old schoolgirl but rather the grimace of someone trying to fake happiness while suffering terrible pain, and it was out of place on her smooth, serene face.

"Justice," she answered, and then Gilbert couldn't study her features any more because the table between them went flying and hit him square in the chest. His legs gave out beneath him and he slumped down under the mass of splintered wood. He tried to gasp for air but his mouth just hung open as it refused to come. The tang of blood coated his tongue. For a few moments he just lay there, gaping like a fish, as the ghost girl approached him. "I know your life, Gilbert. The _guilt._ The things you keep pushing down and running from."

The words washed over Gilbert but his brain needed oxygen and he couldn't _breathe._ His vision swam as her face loomed over him. Getting winded under normal circumstances was terrifying enough, but it happening while under attack by a bloodthirsty ghost was a thousand time worse. Worse again, he could feel blood pouring through his shirt where the impact had torn his stitches. He gritted his teeth as air began to return to his lungs and he shifted the wood away from him. The awesome Gilbert Beilschmidt was _not_ going to lie there and get his ass handed to him by this supernatural slip of a girl.

"I know what a terrible son you are. What a terrible _brother._ "

"You have no -" Gilbert had to stop to suck in more air, like a drowning sailor. His chest was tight and burning and hollow. "- idea -" He winced as he pulled splinters out of his skin. _I'm really having a bad run of things this week, huh?_ "-what the hell you're talking about."

Bela brushed some strands of hair out of her eyes. "Oh, I think I do. You left your family to die in that fire."

* * *

 _Gilbert had just pulled on his pyjamas when he heard the scream, shrill and panicked. It took a moment to connect the voice with that of his father, who he had never heard sounding like this before. Another second passed as he pinpointed where it was coming from. Emmerich's room. His hand dropped away from where he had been buttoning up the shirt and he took off at full sprint down the hall. It was reflex more than anything. His mind was still trailing sleepily a few minutes behind him as he skid to a stop in the doorway._

 _His father was standing rigidly over Emmerich's bed, staring in horror up at the ceiling. Gilbert followed his gaze - and for a moment his heart forgot to beat._

 _His mother was beautiful as always. Golden hair pinned up neatly, the bright blue eyes that had once won his father's heart open wide and empty. Her nightgown was marred only by a gaping wound across her stomach. Blood dripped down over Emmerich's calm, sleeping face. Flames licked at the ceiling behind her, playful and taunting._

No. No no no no no. _Gilbert didn't understand. This couldn't be_ happening. _His heart seemed to decide to compensate for the moment when it had stood still by quickening to more than twice its normal pace. No. This was his_ mother, _who still read to him when he couldn't sleep, who had just kissed him goodnight not even ten minutes ago -_

 _His father snapped out of his trance and swung around to face Gilbert, face stony and grim. Gilbert couldn't bear to look into that face, because it made the whole situation so much more_ real _._

 _"_ Vater _?" Gilbert's voice quivered. He was rooted to the spot, unable to tear his eyes away from Maria. All he could think of was how terribly_ wrong _that look of fear was on her face. It should have been_ her _comforting him when he was scared, letting him know that it was all a bad dream, not_ real, _and that she was here now..._

 _"Gilbert, get Ludwig out of the house_ now. _"_

 _Gilbert understood - he really did. He and his brother were in danger. It was his job to protect his brother._

 _But he just couldn't bring himself to move away, to leave_ this _to be the last time he would ever see his mother._

* * *

Gilbert breathed in shakily, but steeled himself to look Bela dead in the eye. A show of weakness at this juncture would be fatal. "You can't know about that."

"Oh, but I can. And I _do._ I'm strong, Gilbert. And being dead has loosened my hold on time and place. I can see almost _everything._ "

"All right." An omniscient ghost? He hadn't wanted to know such a thing existed. The normal kind was enough of a pain in the ass. "All right. Let's go with that." The one advantage to Bela having smashed the table against him was that now the table leg his handcuffs were attached to had broken off and he could swing them if Bela got too close. He _really_ hoped those cuffs were made of iron. "So my entire family" - _less West,_ he mentally added - "burned to death when I was a kid. And apparently you've decided that _I_ deserve to die for that as well." He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not really connecting the dots, here."

Bela's face twisted into what might have been a sneer, but there was no contempt there. Just pure rage. " _You didn't protect them,_ " she screeched.

Gilbert swallowed, resisting the urge to squeeze his eyes shut against the memory. He would _not_ let Bela see the slightest hint that she might be getting to him. "I was a twelve year old kid. An awesome one, sure, but a kid nevertheless. How exactly could I have saved them all single-handedly?"

"You could have _tried harder_."

The retort died on Gilbert's lips as Bela lunged at him. Hands went up instinctively to shield his head, but her hands dodged around them to lock around his throat. Gilbert spluttered and thrashed as he tried to wriggle his cuffed arm out from where it was stuck between her chest and his face.

 _Finally,_ it broke free, and he whalloped her with all his failing strength. As soon as the metal made contact with her body it flickered and reappeared a few paces away from him. Gilbert breathed in heavily. So it _was_ iron. But he was still cornered, and injured, and weak, and could only hold her off like this for so long.

"A good son wouldn't have left _anyone_ in his family behind."

* * *

 _"Ludwig."_

 _Ludwig was curled up in his bed, more sweet and innocent than Gilbert could ever remember seeing him before. Still blissfully unaware of what had happened a mere two rooms away._

 _The sight made something clench inside Gilbert's chest. That innocence was about to disappear forever._

 _"Gilbert?" Ludwig's eyes flicked open sleepily and he sat up at the edge of his bed, feet hovering a few centimetres above the floor. A small frown creased his brow as he felt the urgency in his older brother's voice._

(That frown would never truly leave again.)

 _"Gilbert? Is something wrong?"_

 _"No time to explain." Gilbert grabbed Ludwig's arm and dragged him across the floor. Ludwig stumbled over his feet, bleary-eyed and confused. "We need to get out of the house_ now."

 _"What's going on? Why are we going? Gilbert, what's happening?" Ludwig's voice rang in Gilbert's ears and he squirmed uneasily in his brother's grip as Gilbert ran down the hall with him in tow. Gilbert spared barely a moment to glower dangerously at him. Of all the moments dutiful, obedient Ludwig could have choosen to be difficult and start questioning orders, it just_ had _to be this one._

 _"Just shut_ up _!" Gilbert barked, and Ludwig was shocked into instant obedience. Gilbert could be rough, and rude, and boisterous, but all his life until then he had not spoken a harsh word to Ludwig, at least not so undeservedly._

 _Ludwig didn't protest again as Gilbert shoved him out the door and into the cold night air._

* * *

"I didn't -" Gilbert began, but then stopped. Why should _he_ defend his actions from ten years ago to this teenage ghost? It wasn't like she would listen anyway. It was all too clear that she was far beyond the point of reason. "What makes this any of your business, anyway?"

"I was let down by the one who should have protected _me_ as well," Bela answered, and for a moment her face held all the vulnerability of a child. A scared little child who had just realised there was no-one coming for them.

The trickle of blood running down his side prevented Gilbert from feeling any pity for her.

Bela hefted a rather large splinter of wood from the wreck that had once been a table and Gilbert eyed it warily. _That had better not be intended for my chest. I'm rather partial to_ not _being impaled through the heart by a huge piece of wood._

The faint click of shoes on the floor outside caught Gilbert's attention and relief flooded him. Thank goodness. He was not dying today.

" _Help!_ " he screamed. "In here! Help me!" Yes, he was begging for help. The seasoned hunter was begging an ordinary prison warden to help him. It was humiliating, but better humiliated than dead.

Bela turned as the door opened and Gilbert had a moment to brush himself off and climb to his feet. The warden made a grab at her arm, but his fingers slipped right through it. His eyes barely had time to widen in disbelief before Bela flung him back against the wall and turned her full attention back to Gilbert. "No one's _saving_ you, Gilbert. Not after all the people you've denied that privilege to. The people _closest_ to you."

Gilbert swallowed, backing away from her. Fear. It was just fear that made his throat clench, nothing else. It certainly wasn't that any of her words might actually have hit home. "You're so full of shit," he spat. "I couldn't have saved them."

"Oh?" Bela tilted her head. "I think we both know that's a lie. You could have gone back for them."

"I'd just have died alongside them!" The prison warden was beginning to get back on his feet. Gilbert kept an eye on him as he talked to Gilbert. _Honestly, this is just ridiculous._

"At least you'd have died _trying_."

Chills ran down the back of Gilbert's spine. Bela was inches away from him. Her ribbon had begun to unravel, hair flying everywhere. She looked feral. This wasn't about unfinished business any more, Gilbert realised. This was a scared, hurt, angry young spirit lashing out at anyone she could find a pretext on which to blame, however flimsy.

The warden was back on his feet at last. "Hey!" Gilbert called out to him. He looked up to meet Gilbert's gaze. "Got a phone on you?"

The man rummaged through his pockets. Bela watched with narrowed eyes, undecided between trying to stop him and trying to finish Gilbert off. "Think so," he said.

"Throw it to me," Gilbert yelled.

The phone arced through the air, over Bela's head and straight into Gilbert's waiting hands. His face split into a triumphant grin. _I may be trapped, but I'm not alone._

* * *

Ludwig groaned softly as his phone rang again. He stopped walking and slumped against the cold stone wall at the end of the street. He had half a mind to just ignore this caller. He was too goddamn _tired._

He ran a hand through his hair and shut his eyes. Bad move. The image of Oliver's broken body flashed against the darkness and Ludwig's eyes flew open again.

This was hardly his first time failing during a hunt. He supposed he shouldn't be so shaken by it. But it was the _futility_ of it all that got to him. He didn't _want_ to be here! He'd only come to help his brother. And now said brother was in prison, they hadn't even _tried_ to track down Azazel and the case they'd come to solve was in shambles with a dead boy lying on his kitchen floor.

He should have just stayed at Stanford.

The insistent ring of the phone scratched at Ludwig's thoughts and he flipped the it on. _Another_ unidentified number. Just perfect.

Reluctantly, he pressed the answer button. "Hello?" He realised as he said this that he should have introduced himself first, but it was too late and he just didn't have the _energy._ "Who's there?"

"You don't sound so great, West."

Ludwig straightened up instantly, snapping back to full alertness. His brother's voice tended to do that to him. "Gilbert?! Where are you? Did you make it out of prison?"

There was a crunch followed by a burst of static. Ludwig tensed. He hoped that wasn't what it seemed like. "-not quite," Gilbert answered at last. "Say, if you could hurry up with burning Bela's bones, that'd be really great."

A pit appeared in Ludwig's stomach. Oliver's death flashed through his mind again, but this time Gilbert was in his place. He pushed the thought away before it could fully form, swallowing tightly. "I already have."

The silence on the other end of the line stretched out just a _little_ too long for Ludwig's comfort. "...Gilbert?" he called apprehensively.

There was a sound of fingers scrabbling against the floor, a wince and then a cough. "Yeah, I'm still here. Uh, she must be tied to an object then. I don't suppose you'll have time to talk to her family." It sounded as if he would have said more, but his voice was cut off suddenly by a gasp and a thud. Ludwig clenched his fingers around the phone. Gilbert was right. By the time he tracked down Bela's family and managed to get them to hand over any significant items of hers they might have kept, Gilbert might be... Bela would have... it might be too late.

He hung his head, eyes burning with frustration. He couldn't save Oliver. He couldn't even protect his brother. What kind of a hunter _was_ he?

Oliver. Oliver. Something about the boy nagged at Ludwig. He frowned. Oliver... he'd been Bela's boyfriend, right? He thought back to the kitchen floor, remembering a spot of green dangling from Oliver's pocket. Remembering the green ribbon in Bela's hair. Bela's boyfriend... he might have something of hers.

He was only a few streets away from the house. He had time to get there.

* * *

Bela jammed the piece of table she was holding into Gilbert's shoulder and he couldn't suppress a small scream of pain. The phone clattered from his grip. As soon as it landed, she kicked it away. Gilbert watched his only connection to the outside of this cell skitter across the floor and out of his reach.

He tried to swing his handcuffs at her again, but she anticipated the move and pinned arm back against the wall, nails digging into his wrist. As Gilbert reached to pull the wood from his shoulder, Bela pulled him forwards and slammed him downwards.

His face connected with the floor hard.

* * *

Ludwig held his breath as he re-opened the door to Oliver's house. This had to be it. It _had to._ It was his only shot.

He didn't know what he would do if this didn't work either.

* * *

He was on the floor, face pressed against the tiles, and Bela's knee dug into the small of his back. Her fingers clasped around his throat with strength she shouldn't have possessed. Maybe being a ghost meant that she was no longer limited by whatever physical strength the muscles in her body allowed her. Gilbert didn't know. He was a _hunter,_ not an expert in ghost physiology.

What he _did_ know was that her grip was strong enough to cut off his air supply with ease, and he was beginning to feel light-headed. Spots danced around the edge of his vision.

 _This is it,_ a voice whispered at the back of his mind. _This is to be the fate of the great Gilbert Beilschmidt. To be throttled in a prison cell, and no-one but Ludwig will even know or care who you were._

 _Shut up,_ he tried to answer, but he didn't have the strength to put any real force behind it.

* * *

It took Ludwig a moment to see it. That moment was dizzying in its terror, but then the green caught his eye and he allowed himself to breathe again. He pulled the ribbon from Oliver's pocket as quickly as he could, not even caring that he had to jostle the boy's corpse to do so.

He pulled a match from his pocket and lit it.

* * *

Gilbert breathed in, and was shocked to find that he could do so. He had never tasted air so sweet before. The pressure on his back had gone completely. He flipped himself over so he could see something more than the floor in front of him.

Bela was stumbling backwards, hands held out in front of her. Those hands were flaming and slowly disintegrating.

"No," she gasped. "No, _please,_ I don't want to die again. This shouldn't be happening. This isn't supposed to be _happening!_ " She opened her mouth to protest again, but no sound came out, and then she was gone.

Gilbert stared, his senses slowly coming back to him. He rubbed at his throat.

 _West, have I ever told you how utterly brilliant you are?_

* * *

 _Outside in the cold, panting and panicked, the events of that night finally began to sink in for Gilbert. Ludwig still didn't understand, but he watched the flame licking at the walls of the house with wide, fearful eyes._

 _He had to go back, Gilbert realised. Emmerich and Vater were in there._

 _His mother was in there, burning to death on the ceiling._

 _His knees felt weak as he took a step towards the house, but before he could go any further he felt a small hand grab hold of his wrist._

 _"Gilbert?"_

 _Ludwig was trembling. Gilbert stared helplessly down at him. He wanted to reassure his little brother that it was all right, they were going to be all right, but the words wouldn't come. All he could do was look between Ludwig and the house._

 _"Gilbert, please don't go."_

 _The plea was quiet, barely audible over the roaring of blood in Gilbert's ears, but it froze him in place._

 _As much as it pained him to realise it, there was nothing he could do to help Vater and Emmerich. He couldn't leave his little brother alone and scared out here and risk getting himself killed in the fire. Someone had to look after Ludwig._

 _The moment of indecision was all he had. The fire swelled out, burning through the windows, and the house crumbled. Bricks and mortar, giving way, turning into a pile of rubble and ash._

 _A scream tore from Gilbert's throat, raw and harsh._

 _"Gilbert?"_

 _The pressure on his wrist brought him back to his senses. He stopped screaming. Silence flooded his senses. No more crackling, no more burning. No more laughing, no more caresses from his mother, no more approving nods from his father when he managed to do something right, no more warmth, no more family, no more_ home.

 _Sobs rattled out of Gilbert's chest to fill the silence. Ludwig stared up at him, blue eyes lost and so, so confused and afraid._

 _Gilbert clutched his little brother to his chest as tightly as he could, praying that Ludwig's warmth would block out some of the emptiness spreading through him._

 _They stayed that way for what might have been hours, the older boy cradling the younger and sobbing brokenly like the child he was._

* * *

 **Well, that was a long one. I really hope it turned out right.**

 **I wrote this all in basically one go, and it was so clear and vivid in my head, but I'm afraid of not getting things across the way I meant to :/. Please review and let me know what you think!**


	9. Chapter 9

Gilbert had texted him from the prison guard's cell phone to meet outside the motel. Ludwig leant back against their car, hands shoved into his pockets. The frost that had previously covered the pavement was being melted away by a sudden downpour of cold rain. Ludwig's hair was soaked and hung limply, dripping water down onto his face. The rain had ruined all his careful efforts to keep it slick and tidy.

The water had begun to seep in through his coat. Ludwig shivered. He supposed he could get into the car and sit there, but then Gilbert might not see him. Or he might not see Gilbert. In spite of the text, Ludwig needed to see his brother in person to feel fully reassured.

He was about to give up and get into the car anyway so he could dry himself off and get warm when a slim figure with a shock of white hair came into view. Ludwig straightened up.

"West." Gilbert's tone made Ludwig frown. He sounded... strange. Ludwig couldn't quite put his finger on the emotion in Gilbert's voice, but there was certainly something there.

He pushed the thought away uneasily. "You took your time getting here," he said.

Gilbert shrugged. "Took me a while to convince the guard to let me go. I was at the point where I was considering knocking him out, but after what he'd seen I was able to convince him to buy my story."

"Your story being?"

"The truth."

"Right." Ludwig climbed into the driver's seat. Gilbert slipped in besides him.

Ludwig took a moment to study his brother. Through Gilbert's coat, he couldn't see any injuries, but he held himself gingerly, stopping to rub at his shoulder every now and then. Ludwig narrowed his eyes. "You got hurt."

"Yeah, I did. Tell me something new."

Ludwig bit his lip. "I should have thought of burning the ribbon as soon as I saw it. I was at Oliver's house before you called me, and I _saw_ Bela's ghost there, but I didn't think to -"

Gilbert rolled his eyes. "Oh, shut _up,_ West."

"You were right. I'm rusty. And you could have -"

"Right." Gilbert turned to face Ludwig. "Listen up. If I have to hear one more word of your guilt fest, I swear to God I will knock some sense into you. You did great. You were _awesome._ Taking you with me on this hunt was one of the best decisions I've made in a long time. Now shut up and start driving."

Ludwig did shut up, but his hands didn't touch the steering wheel. He looked ahead blankly, watching the rain pound down against the window, mixed with some hailstone.

"I let Oliver die," he said at last, voice quiet.

"Yeah, well. Not every hunt goes your way. C'mon, West, I thought you knew that already. Besides, if we _hadn't_ been there, what do you think would have happened? Now, are you going to _drive,_ or what?"

Ludwig sighed, but pressed down on the gas pedal. _You would have saved him,_ he thought.

* * *

"Hey, West, hold up. Where are we going? Y'know, if you're lost, you could always just let _me_ drive."

"I'm not lost."

"'Course not." Gilbert glanced out the window. They had parked the car in front of a shop stocked with paint-brushes, canvases, and various books. "So then you've suddenly developed some brand-new artistic side that you didn't think to tell me about?" He snickered. "Because, y'know, I would _pay_ to see you paint. Last time you tried to draw something, if I recall correctly, you were still doing stick figures."

Ludwig rolled his eyes. " _No,_ Gilbert. I'm buying a present. It's almost Christmas. Would it hurt you to use your brain sometimes when you're _not_ working a case?"

"Your words sting, brother," Gilbert said with a pout, crossing his arms. "Besides, who would _you_ be buying a Christmas present, anyway? ... _Oh._ " His eyes lit up suddenly. "It's that friend you have at Stanford, isn't it?"

"...Yes, it is," Ludwig admitted. "Not that it's any of your business."

Gilbert reached out to ruffle Ludwig's hair. "'Course it's my business, little brother. Being nosy is in my job description."

Ludwig didn't bother with an answer, instead pushing open the door of the car and walking into the shop. Gilbert scrambled out after him.

* * *

"Hello, can I help you?" The woman at the desk smiled pleasantly at Ludwig, before her eyes widened at the sight of Gilbert. Ludwig supposed the bruises that lined Gilbert's face didn't look too good.

(Why was it that even when he was there, it was always his brother who got hurt?)

"Do you have any..." Ludwig scanned his memory for anything Feliciano might have mentioned needing. God, he wasn't any good at this. Feliciano talked about his work all the time to Ludwig, but he might as well have been dealing with advanced quantum mechanics for all Ludwig understood of it. "...oil paints?" he finished uncertainly. Feli _had_ complained once about running out of those, hadn't he? At least, Ludwig _hoped_ it had been oil paints.

The cashier cocked her head at him with mild amusement. Ludwig hoped he hadn't said something wrong and completely made a fool of himself. "Oil paints? We certainly do. But are you sure you want those? Pardon me for making assumptions, but if you're a beginner I suggest you start with aquarels. _Much_ easier to use."

"...Ah." He could see the misunderstanding now. "No, I'm not buying them for myself."

"Oh! Okay, I see now." She held up a set of paints. "Will these do?"

"You'd know better than I would," Ludwig admitted.

"How skilled is the friend you're giving these to?"

"Very. He's professional, almost."

"Then these will do just fine," she replied with a friendly grin. Ludwig handed over the money silently.

"Psst," Gilbert whispered in his ear.

"What?" Ludwig demanded rather loudly, earning him a strange look from the woman.

"You should try smiling back. I think your serious look is starting to freak her out."

"Gilbert."

"I know it'd freak _me_ out, if you weren't my brother."

" _Gilbert._ " Ludwig nodded to the woman and took the paints, heading towards the door.

* * *

"So." Gilbert leant back comfortably into the seat of the car. In spite of everything that had happened in the last few hours, he was starting to enjoy himself. He was riding shotgun to his brother, hunting together, arguing and teasing and saving each other's skins... he could almost believe these last few years had never happened and he and Ludwig had never stopped working together.

(Not that he _regretted_ getting Ludwig into Stanford; on the contrary. It had been one of his greatest triumphs since the day they'd left home together.)

"Where to?" They could go back to the Roadhouse motel, maybe. Or maybe somewhere else; he didn't particularly feel like hanging out with Francis and Antonio, not now that he'd gotten his brother back.

He drummed his fingers against his knees. Once they got back they could have some drinks together, and Ludwig would tell him _everything_ about Stanford, and things would be back to normal for at least another night.

"I'm going home," Ludwig answered.

" _Home?_ " Gilbert demanded, frowning at his brother. He tried to make sense of the comment, but it was impossible. Of all the places he _could_ go, that is where he would have been happiest to, but... "We don't _have_ a home."

Ludwig's cheeks went faintly red and he turned his head away so that Gilbert couldn't meet his eyes. "Sorry. I meant Stanford."

"Right, yeah." It was Gilbert's turn to feel flustered and embarrassed. "'Course. That's fine, then."

"Feliciano texted me earlier," Ludwig explained quickly. "He said he was dropping by our apartment today and he wanted to take the opportunity to give me a Christmas present."

"Aww," Gilbert teased, forcing a smile. This conversation was getting very awkward very quickly. This was starting to frustrate him. He looked over at Ludwig. Yes, Stanford had certainly helped his brother; Ludwig stood taller, more confidently; smiled more easily; had a future ahead of him that didn't likely involve a violent death by some supernatural entity. But the cost was that Gilbert wasn't sure how well they knew each other any more. All their life, Ludwig and Gilbert had been inseparable. Gilbert still remembered what Ludwig had looked like at the age of six, the first time they had pranked Roderich together, Ludwig's giggle as he hid behind the curtain waiting to scare his sissy cousin, the mischievous sparkle in those blue eyes... sometimes Gilbert missed that boy, even when his brother was right next to him. "So Stanford is your home, now?" he asked quietly.

Ludwig's discomfort was plain for anyone to see. He looked down, forwards, to the rear view mirror, anywhere that wasn't at Gilbert. A rolled shoulder, a clenched jaw, but no answer.

"Well, that's good. I'm glad for you." Even after ten years, 'home' for Gilbert would always mean a brick house in Bonn where he and Ludwig were no older than twelve and eight, respectively. But there was no need for his brother to get tied down to the past like that, too. "At least this way I don't have you complaining about my dirty socks all the time."

Ludwig turned, at last, to look at him, eyes wide and earnest as only Ludwig's could be. Something tightened in Gilbert's chest. He wanted Ludwig at his side more than anything, but he couldn't be selfish, here. In any other situation, Gilbert might be an unashamedly self-centred bastard, but not when it came to his little brother.

Ludwig's mouth opened, but he couldn't seem to find anything to say. The soaking hair and clothes made him look more vulnerable than Gilbert could remember since Ludwig had been, what, ten maybe?

This wasn't what he wanted at all. He wasn't trying to make his brother feel guilty, certainly wasn't trying to _burden_ him.

"Uh, West," he said at last. "Might wanna keep your eyes on the road, I'd rather not have a head-on collision with a tree right now."

Ludwig snapped his gaze back forwards and the rest of the ride passed in an uncomfortable silence not even Gilbert could lighten. He kept looking over at Ludwig, scouring his brain for something he could make fun of to break the tension ( _You look like a drowned rat, West_ or _You're going to make a swimming pool if you keep dripping like that_ ), but none of the remarks passed his lips. All he could think of as he looked over at Ludwig was a child's hand on his wrist and the words ' _Gilbert, please don't go_ '. He wondered if Ludwig still felt like that now.

It felt almost like being in the car with a stranger.

* * *

Ludwig cleared his throat as he walked out of the car. Something was wrong with his brother. This silence wasn't normal for Gilbert. Something must have happened with Bela that Gilbert hadn't told him about.

Well, Ludwig wasn't going to press him. If Gilbert didn't want to talk, no-one could make Gilbert talk.

"I'll be going, then," he said with a nod.

"Yeah." Gilbert didn't get out of the car, instead opting to talk through the window of the car. "See ya around, then. I've gotta get back to being awesome, and... stuff."

Ludwig rooted around in his pocket for a few moments, before pulling out a key and tossing it to Gilbert. Gilbert snatched from the air and frowned. "What's this?"

"The spare key to my apartment. Next time you're in trouble, I don't want you picking the lock again."

Gilbert stared down at it for a few moments in silence, before a giddy grin began to spread across his face. "So..." he said slowly, "this is basically an invitation to crash your place whenever I feel like it, right?"

Ludwig frowned. "If you use it to make trouble, I'm going to ask for it back."

"C'mon, though, West, I'm allowed a to have _little_ fun with this, right?"

Ludwig's frowned stayed firmly fixed in place.

"Fine, fine." Gilbert raised his hands defensively. "I'll be good, I promise." He tucked the key into his own coat pocket, then tilted his head, still looking at Ludwig. "You know... we should do stuff like this more often. I'm not asking you to hunt full time again, or anything, just every once in a while."

"I'll think about it."

Gilbert nodded. "See you around, then, West."

"And Gilbert... you don't have to be in danger or running for your life in order to drop by, you know."

"Thanks, West," Gilbert said softly.

* * *

"Feli?" Ludwig called as he pushed open the door to his flat. Normally, Feliciano would be at the door to greet him as soon as he came home, but all he was greeted with today was silence. For a moment he worried he might have missed his friend, but the extra pair of shoes told him that he hadn't.

Maybe Feliciano was in the bathroom, or napping. The apocalypse wouldn't be enough to wake Feliciano if he was napping.

Ludwig took off his own shoes and coat, then walked into the kitchen. There was a note on the counter that read ' _Dinner's in the fridge'_ in Feli's handwriting. Ludwig smiled. It was these small, thoughtful gestures that he loved about Feli. Coming home to a full fridge and having someone who thought to cook for him.

He wasn't especially hungry at the moment, though. He'd go have a rest and eat later, once Feliciano got back. They could exchange funny stories about their brothers, then. Or rather, Feli would tell stories and Ludwig would listen. Though maybe, this once, he would talk a bit as well. He wouldn't say anything about ghosts or monsters, of course, but he needed help sorting through his thoughts about Gilbert and Feliciano seemed like the best person to ask about it. After all, he had a twin; he had to know _something_ about these things.

Ludwig took a long, warm shower and then made his way to his room. It was strange that there was still no sign of Feli, but Ludwig told himself not to worry. Feliciano came and went sporadically, and an appointment was a mere guideline to him. If he forgot to come today he'd come tomorrow. Anyway, there were clear signs that he'd _been_ here.

Through the window, Ludwig could still see the car parked outside the block of flats. His brother was still here. He sighed and fell back into bed, squeezing his eyes shut. It was still early, but after the last few days he needed a rest. He could still feel the shape of the shovel in his hands, the weight of the handcuffs around his wrist. He was slipping back into this life as easily as into an old pair of shoes and that scared him. It wasn't _bad,_ necessarily. He wanted to be there for his brother and the thought that Bela might have killed Gilbert had Ludwig not been there wasn't something he could easily put out of his mind. But he also wanted to be in his control of his own life. If he started hunting again, it would be a concious choice, not a matter of slipping into old habits.

Something wet dripped onto his forehead and Ludwig raised a hand to wipe it away, but only succeeded in smearing it. His hand came away sticky.

 _What could that -_

He opened his eyes and looked at his hand. The liquid that stained it was red.

He looked up at the ceiling.

The first thing that registered was flames. His ceiling was on fire. The sight, shocking as it was, struck a chord of familiarity deep within him. Deja vú. It seemed almost fitting. This was how everything peaceful in his life was doomed to end, in flames.

The second thing that struck him was Feliciano, and that was when things really began to sink in.

He had seen his friend scared, worried, panicked, stressed. But none of those things had anything on the look of sheer _terror_ in those soft brown eyes, so wide and shocked and innocent. They looked at Ludwig without seeing him, without lighting up in happiness at seeing a friend. His stomach was sliced open and dripped blood onto Ludwig's bed.

Ludwig sat there paralysed. He should run, the rational part of his brain told him. If he wanted to live, he needed to get out of the flat.

 _But Feli needed him. Feli was in trouble._ _He must have been relying on Ludwig to save him._

Ludwig's eyes widened in realisation. His stop at the arts shop had made him maybe fifteen minutes late. Feliciano would have been wondering where he was. Wondering why Ludwig wasn't there to protect him like Ludwig always did, even under the most harmless of circumstances.

"Feli..."

The name came out in a whimper, Ludwig's eyes still glued to his friends face. The flames spread out and Ludwig began to sweat uncomfortably, but he still couldn't move.

The stench of charred flesh filled the room. Ludwig had always hated that smell, _always,_ since his first salt-and-burn.

"Feli. _Feliciano!_ "

Calling his friend's name did nothing, Ludwig knew. He wasn't going to get an answer. But he couldn't help himself.

" _Ludwig!_ " Someone was calling his name from the corridor. Footsteps pounding across the floor. He was barely aware of it. All his sense knew of was flickering flames in red and gold and the smell of smoke choking him, the smear of blood across his forehead, his friend's empty brown eyes.

" _West! LUDWIG!_ "

Hands on his shoulder, pulling at him. His brother's hands. He let himself be guided by them, even as they drew him away from the bed. Out of the room, out of the flat, away from the fire, away from Feliciano...

The cold night air rushed into his lungs and he stumbled, coughing and sputtering. Gilbert's arms steadied him before he could collapse onto his knees. His legs felt weak, his chest as though it had been stuffed full of harsh cotton wool. His head was spinning.

"Hey. West."

Gilbert's hands on his shoulders, not letting him fall. Ludwig drew in deep breathes to steady himself.

"It's okay, West, I've got you."

* * *

 **Another chapter full of angst. Sorry, people.**

 **I want to thank you for the great response I got last chapter. I love you, reviewers, each and every one of you. This story wouldn't be alive without you. I mean that.**

 **I have to admit this chapter is a little rushed, but with good reason. I'm leaving tomorrow for the Christmas holidays and my internet access will likely be sporadic at best, so I wanted to get another chapter up before I go so that you all know I haven't abandoned this. I'm also working on some original fiction parallel to this, which may slow down my updates, but I love writing this story and I don't intend to stop, even if things get busy.**

 **This chapter corresponds to the end of the first episode of Supernatural, plot-wise, so that's one mini-arc complete. But there's plenty more good stuff to come.**


	10. Chapter 10

**Warning: Lovino/Romano has a dirty mouth in this.**

* * *

Ludwig found a place at the very back of the church to stand stiffly, Gilbert at his side. Some people - Kiku, for one, and a couple of other students who had known Feliciano - had tried to approach him and offer condolences. Ludwig's stone-hard glare had quickly sent them away.

The church was too small for the number of people who had gathered. Ludwig had to force down a rising claustrophobia that had threatened to overtake him since he had arrived at the funeral. More than anything he wanted to be alone, not surrounded by the eyes of almost a hundred classmates, prying at something they didn't understand. Now more than ever he wanted to hide from their scrutiny. Most acted sympathetic, but he heard the whispers. Even before this, he'd never been trusted.

Feliciano's grandfather had asked him if he'd like to eulogize. Ludwig had politely declined.

The world felt muted. When the mass was finally over, Ludwig was first to stumble out into the pale winter sunlight. He couldn't have stood another second in there. Gilbert followed immediately. Ludwig couldn't help but notice how closely Gilbert stuck to him, almost hovering. He didn't really mind. If there was anyone he would allow close to him today it was his brother.

He looked up at the sky. Bright, clear blue, with only a few white strands of clouds. It was exactly Feliciano's kind of day.

The thought gnawed at the edges of the gaping hole of emptiness in his chest.

"Hey, bastard!"

Ludwig turned.

The boy running towards him looked almost exactly like Feliciano, but no-one could have mistaken one for the other. The bite in his voice, his dark, angry scowl - those things were all Lovino.

"Running away?" Lovino demanded.

"I don't see any reason to stay." Ludwig was aware his voice sounded cold and insensitive. Fine. Let people think he didn't care, if that would make them leave him be.

"No, I don't suppose _you_ would." Ludwig had seen Lovino irritated, annoyed and even mildly angry - those seemed to be his default states, at least around Ludwig - but now he looked downright _feral._ Fists clenched, teeth bared, and quivering with tension, he was like a wild animal preparing to pounce. Ludwig averted his gaze. "I thought I _told_ you to stay the fuck _away_ from my brother. I knew the moment I saw you that you were bad news, but _no,_ of course he didn't listen. And now look where it got him." Lovino brushed at his eyes angrily.

Ludwig swallowed, but when his mind searched for words to respond with he found there were none within reach. To his side, he saw Gilbert looking between the two of them with a look of fierce protectiveness. He placed a hand gently on his brother's arm. If Gilbert intervened he could see things getting ugly.

"Well? Aren't you going _say_ something?"

There was nothing he _could_ say. Grouchy, suspicious Lovino had proved himself a far better judge of character than his twin; Ludwig had no choice but to concede that. _I attract trouble wherever I go, even if I don't mean to._

Ludwig's silence seemed to infuriate Lovino more than anything. He stepped up and shoved Ludwig angrily backwards. Ludwig didn't even sway; Lovino was not much stronger than his brother. He might as well have been pushing a brick wall. "Dammit, you bastard, _speak!_ This is all your fault!"

If Lovino had been holding on to some restraint thus far, it was all gone now. Tears streamed freely down his face; whether they were of grief or rage, Ludwig couldn't tell. Most likely a combination of both.

Ludwig saw Gilbert's movement out of the corner of his eye, but too late to stop him. Before he could do anything, Gilbert was standing between them, grabbing a fistful of Lovino's shirt. "Listen up, I don't _care_ how upset you are. You do not speak to my brother like that."

"Gilbert..."

Lovino's eyes widened, then narrowed. "At least you've still _got_ a brother," he hissed.

"Gilbert!" Ludwig spoke more sharply this time, and Gilbert turned to look at him. "Let it _go._ "

Gilbert met his gaze with one as fierce as Lovino's had been. "Tell me you don't really think you deserved that."

"Do you honestly think I _don't_?"

Gilbert opened his mouth to answer, but was interrupted by another voice from behind them.

"Lovino!"

Ludwig watched with a sinking heart as the rest of Feliciano's family approached. He had already had one painful conversation with them that day. He didn't think he could handle another one. "Gilbert, we should -"

"There you are, Lovino." Feli's grandfather wrapped an arm around the youth's shoulder. "Ah, Ludwig -"

"I'm sorry, I really have to -"

"We were just leaving," Gilbert interrupted. Ludwig sent him a look of profound gratitude. Gilbert turned towards the car. "Coming, Ludwig?"

Ludwig inclined his head. "We can catch up later," he offered, with absolutely no intent to keep that promise, before following Gilbert.

* * *

The silence in the car was suffocating. So were the frequent worried glances Gilbert kept shooting at Ludwig. He probably thought they were subtle, which was almost enough to make Ludwig chuckle. Gilbert wouldn't know subtlety if it hit him over the head with a hammer.

"Keep your eyes on the road," Ludwig said at last, tonelessly, when he had had enough, "unless you want us to crash."

He wasn't going to think about Feliciano's awful driving skills. Not now.

Gilbert sighed, but for once did what Ludwig asked. As soon as he found a suitable place on the side of the road, though, he pulled over and parked so that he could turn fully towards his brother. "Right, West, we need to talk."

Ludwig drew in a deep breath. He felt like he was still stuck in a nightmare that had started the moment he'd felt blood dripping onto his forehead. No, if he was being honest, it had started ten years ago when Gilbert had dragged him out of the house with no words of explanation and it was catching up to him again now.

He rested his head in his palms. "You're right. We do," he said.

Gilbert's gaze didn't waver from him once. "What are you going to do now?" he asked. Ludwig sighed.

"I should think that's obvious."

Gilbert's eyes narrowed. "Well, forgive me if my awesome powers don't extend to telepathy, but it isn't obvious to me."

"I'm not going to get any peace until Yellow-Eyes is dead." He rubbed his forehead with the tips of his fingers, but it did little against his mounting headache. "I've come to accept that. So I suppose now I just have one more reason to stick by you while you hunt him."

"What about Stanford? Law school? Your degree?"

Ludwig shook his head. "Staying is not an option. Even if I still _wanted_ to... put together my mysterious background, my arrest on our last hunt, and now _this..._ what conclusion do you think people will come to?"

Ludwig saw Gilbert pale. He couldn't believe his brother hadn't realised this on his own, but then, maybe Gilbert wasn't entirely familiar with how other people at Stanford saw Ludwig.

He sighed. "I just want to have some _control_ over my own life, for once. So we kill this demon that's been haunting us our entire lives, as quickly as we can, and then maybe I'll be free at last."

Gilbert was looking at him with that expression he reserved for when his little brother was hurt or in danger - tender, worried, and completely unlike his usual self. "I can get behind that," he said.

* * *

 _Erzébet was getting really worried about Gilbert._

 _Granted, it was normal enough that he would be upset._ Anyone _who'd just watched their family burn to death would be. But that didn't mean she couldn't worry about the changes in him._

 _Ever since Roderich's parents had let him stay with them, he had shut himself up in the room they'd offered him and not spoken to_ anyone _except a bare few words - not even to his brother, the one person in the world Erzébet knew he was closest to._

 _Erzébet stopped pacing and narrowed her eyes at the wooden door in front of her. Well, she thought, jutting her chin out. He would talk to_ her. _Rude, cocky, occasionally anti-social jerk that he was, he was her best friends and there were no secrets between them. Erzébet wasn't going to let this be a starting point._

 _She knocked._

 _She wished she could say she was surprised by the resonating silence that answered her._ Normally, _if Gilbert was annoyed at being disturbed he would holler insults through the door, and Erzébet would holler right back, but Erzébet knew this wasn't 'normally'._

 _Steeling herself, she pushed the door open._

 _Gilbert was sitting cross-legged in the middle of an unmade bed, a leather-bound book on his lap. The moment he saw her, he straightened, head jerking up, and snapped the book shut, but not before she could see that the text inside was hand-written. A journal, most likely._

 _The name on the spine caught her eye. '_ Jonas Beilschmidt'. _His_ father's _journal, then._

 _Several more such books formed a haphazard stack at his side. Some of the spines had the same name on them; others read '_ Frederick Beilschmidt'.

 _She remembered what Gilbert had been like after his grandfather's funeral. It was the first time she'd seen him drop his arrogantly playful attitude and act serious, though it had nothing on his behaviour_ now.

 _The thought of Gilbert spending all day holed up in this room tearing relentlessly through his father's and grandfather's journals saddened Erzébet._

 _"Hey," she said carefully. Gilbert said nothing, just pressed his mouth into a hard line._

 _Erzébet sighed. So it was going to be like_ that, _then. Well, Gilbert's stubbornness was nothing she couldn't handle. She'd been putting up with him most of her life._

 _She smoothed out a section of the mattress near Gilbert and plopped herself down on it. The state of his bed was another warning sign; in spite of what you might think upon first meeting him, Gilbert was actually very disciplined. An unmade bed was not something he would usually let slide._

 _She felt her friend tense at her presence, levelling one of his most forbidding glares at her. "Did I_ say _you could sit down?" he snapped._

 _"Nope," Erzébet said cheerfully. "Do you know me to need your permission to do anything?"_

 _Erzébet half expected him to cuff her on the back of the head, or throw a book at her, or anything at all like that. Then she could wrestle him down until one of them gave up and the other retained bragging rights for the rest of the week. That was how things were_ meant _to work between them._

 _Gilbert's silence was just unnerving._

 _Erzébet groaned inwardly. What had she gotten herself_ into? _She didn't know the first thing about dealing with emotion. Luckily, with Gilbert, she'd never had to._ Roderich _was the weepy and sensitive one._

 _It just wasn't_ right. _Gilbert wasn't meant to be like this. She felt like she was looking at a stranger._

 _She wanted to throw something. It wasn't fair; she just wanted her friend back! Nothing that had happened these past two weeks even made_ _any_ sense.

 _"What are you reading?" she asked. She'd already figured it out, but she wanted to check if Gilbert trusted her enough to tell her._

 _"Nothing," he said sharply. With his shoulders hunched in like that, he looked almost... defensive._

 _Erzébet got that he was upset, she really did, but what the hell made him think he needed to_ defend _himself against her, not tell her things?_

 _More moment past. She heard Gilbert sigh. "Can't you just leave me_ alone _?" he muttered sullenly._

 _She was on the point of admitting defeat. She'd gotten absolutely none of the things she wanted out of this, but she frankly didn't know what else she could try._

 _With a huff, she made her way to the door. "Let me know when you're ready to talk to me," she called over her shoulder. As hard as she tried, she couldn't stop a hint of annoyance from leaking into her voice. Gilbert just wouldn't be_ Gilbert _if he wasn't being difficult._

 _She just wanted to_ help.

 _That had been the last time she'd seen Gilbert. Two days later he and his brother were pronounced missing. Another few months, and the police had tagged on 'presumed dead'._

 _There were no words for how she'd felt when Ludwig's appearance in Stanford had proven them wrong. All she knew was that since that night, she had understood_ nothing _about Gilbert anymore, and it was slowly driving her insane._

* * *

 **Hi! I'm back. This is** _ **not**_ **discontinued, I've just had a very busy few weeks. Thanks to everyone who's sticking with it in spite of that.**

 **There _is_ a purpose to the flashback at the end. Well, kind of. It's also true that I've wanted to write a scene that contains interaction between Prussia and Hungary practically since I've started this fic, but there are still reasons why the relationship they had as kids is important, and I hope those reasons will become evident fairly soon.**

 **The action will pick up again before long but I felt like at least one chapter dealing with the characters' emotions was necessary at this point.**

 **Please let me know what you think! Reviews encourage me to write :).**


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